‘If only I could,’ James moaned. ‘But I can’t! I can’t! They would get the better of it and inflict on me some horrible death. I just haven’t the courage to challenge them. It’s too much to ask.’
‘Then you are a coward, and not fit to rule.’ Olinda sadly shook her head. Her voice became almost a wail as she added, ‘I’d never have believed it. How terribly I have let myself be misled.’ Suddenly she burst into tears and ran from the saloon.
James started after her, then, utterly stricken, collapsed on the settee and buried his face in his hands. His great shoulders began to heave and tears trickled between his fingers.
Manon had remained a silent observer throughout this unhappy scene. Gregory now signed to her to leave the cabin. Much relieved that James had not been persuaded to alter his mind, she was inwardly smiling, but before going up on deck she gave Gregory one of those expressive French grimaces in which raised eyebrows and down-turned mouth portray both puzzlement and sympathy.
As soon as she had gone, Gregory laid a hand on James’ shoulder and said, ‘Don’t take Olinda’s outburst too badly. When she has had a little time to think things over I’m sure she’ll come round and understand your point of view.’
‘No!’ sobbed James. ‘No, I’m sure she won’t. She meant what she said about being disappointed in me. I love her so dearly, and now I’ve lost her love. Oh, this is terrible … terrible.’
In spite of what Gregory had said, he thought the odds were that James was right. At a loss for words to console him, he sat down on the settee and began vaguely to philosophise, in the hope of distracting his young friend’s attention from his grief.
‘If a man lived to be as old as Methuselah he could still not count on predicting every time what a woman’s reaction to an act of his would be. That is because each one is an individual, with a different upbringing, past experience, background, morals, instincts and so on. But there are certain general principles that apply to most. Flattery in moderation never fails to go down well and, of course, generosity. Honesty, earnestness and endeavour they may respect, but they would far rather have a man who makes them laugh. Their attitude towards courage is illogical. They admire a man for his past deeds of valour, but if he wants to go out and fight again they do their utmost to restrain him. On the other hand, should he be faced with a challenge and refuse it, they send him straight to the bottom of the class.’
James suddenly looked up and said bitterly, ‘That’s where Olinda has sent me, and I’ve got to get back to the top. I’ve got to. But how am I going to do it?’
‘My dear boy, with the best will in the world I can’t give you any answer to that one, except to change your mind about facing up to this curse—unless …’
‘Unless, what?’ James asked eagerly.
‘Well, there is another way; and I suppose if I felt as scared of the White Witch as you do, I should take it. You could return to Tujoa and put bullets through her and her pal Roboumo; then you could cheerfully go ahead with getting up the gold without anything to fear.’
‘I wish I could.’ James shook his head. ‘But it’s not possible. I’d never be able to get past Roboumo’s body-guard. And, even if I did succeed in that, everyone would be after me for murder.’
They fell silent for a few minutes, then Gregory remarked, ‘I don’t know much about these matters, but I’ve always understood that there were ways in which curses could be turned aside and deflected back on to their originator.’
‘You’re right. And that is a by no means uncommon practice. If a man knows himseif to have been cursed he seeks out a more powerful witch-doctor and, whatever it costs him, pays the man to channel the curse on to his enemy.’
‘Then why shouldn’t you do that?’
‘Because I know of no witch-doctor more powerful than Roboumo. In fact, with the aid of the White Witch he has made himself the most powerful Draunikau wizard in all the South Seas.’
‘What about trying your own hand at outmagicking him?’ Gregory suggested.
‘How could I? Such an idea is crazy. I wouldn’t even know how to start.’
‘Perhaps I could help you. Of course, this sort of thing is right outside my field. But I do know a bit about the sort of games that witches and warlocks used to get up to in Europe in the Middle Ages. We’ll get hold of some wax and model two little figures of a man and a woman. On them we will scratch the names Roboumo and White Witch. Then we’ll stick needles in the places where their livers would be and let them melt slowly in front of a fire.’
‘Do you really think that would have any effect?’
Gregory shrugged. ‘God alone knows. Naturally, I couldn’t guarantee anything. With a bit of luck the two of them might be suffering all sorts of pain and grief come morning. But it’s a long-odds bet, because I expect the sorcerer who does the job would have to mutter all sorts of gibberish over the images while they were melting, to make the curse effective. What we really want is for you to turn up in Tujoa with some sort of trick up your sleeve that will make everyone believe that you have become a more powerful magician than Roboumo. For instance, when a white man first killed here at a distance by banging off his musket, or showed that he could talk to his pals many miles away through the magic box that we call a wireless set.’
For a few minutes James considered this, then suddenly he jumped to his feet and cried, ‘I have it! I’ve got it! I’ll do a fire-walk.’
Gregory stared up at him. ‘Good God, man! How could you? It’s you who are being crazy now. You’d be burned to a cinder.’
‘Why should I be?’ James demanded. ‘If the men of Beqa can do it, why shouldn’t I? No training is required. The Chief there told me so. Only twenty-four hours of abstinence and concentration to gain faith in one’s ability to walk over the hot stones without being burned. Nowhere else in the Pacific, or in the world, for that matter, do men perform this feat. If I could come safely through a trial on Beqa I could do another fire-walk in Tujoa, with my Council of Elders as witnesses. After that I would be publicly acclaimed as a more powerful magician than Roboumo, and could defy him with impunity.’
Silently, Gregory marvelled that a well-educated man who could not bring himself to face the nebulous possibility of being harmed by an evil occultist should be willing to face the very real danger of becoming crippled for life through attempting to walk on red-hot stones. After a moment he said:
‘Well, James, you are a braver man than I am. Far braver. But if you can pull this off it will be a great spiritual victory and once and for all you will have destroyed the evil influence that Roboumo has over your people. Even should you fail, I feel sure that your having undertaken this ordeal will restore Olinda’s faith in your courage.’
As Gregory had predicted, within half an hour James had regained Olinda’s good graces. Manon, on learning of James’ intentions, had to admit uneasily to herself that she had counted her chickens before they were hatched, but she could still hope that his brash audacity would result in his being so badly burned that he would be put out of the game for good. His decision to do the fire-walk necessitated a change of plan as, instead of putting in two days at her island, they would spend them lying off Beqa; but she consoled herself with the thought that the delay still gave Lacost the lead that she had done her best to secure for him.
James, now keyed up with nervous tension, was anxious to face his ordeal as soon as possible, so that evening the yacht left harbour as planned, but set a course for Beqa instead of the Mamanucas.
When they arrived off the island darkness had fallen and, as the waking hours of the inhabitants were governed by the sun, it was decided that they should not go ashore that night. Then, over dinner, James declared firmly that he did not want the others to come ashore at all; the reason he gave being that, should he fail the test it would be bad enough for him to have to confess it later, but more than he could bear that they should actually witness his failure.
To that they all readily agreed, and Greg
ory suggested that to fill in the two days that James would be ashore the rest of them should amuse themselves by big-game fishing in nearby waters.
It was now the dark quarter of the moon, but the sky was cloudless and the stars showed at their brightest. In countless millions, from tiny pinpoints of light to steadily gleaming beacons, they spangled the entire vault of the heavens, casting a soft radiance on the scene as the yacht rocked gently at her moorings.
The night was made for lovers, and when James and Olinda went arm in arm to the after part of the deck, Gregory and Manon tactfully settled themselves forward of the deckhouse, just under the bridge.
Next day Olinda confided to Gregory that she had spent three hours doing her utmost to dissuade James from risking mutilation by doing the fire-walk, but even when she had offered to tear up the licence and forget about the gold he had refused to be deflected from his purpose. For a moment Gregory was tempted to point out to her that it was she who had driven the young Ratu into this situation where he must either prove his courage or forfeit her love, but she was obviously so distressed and anxious that he refrained, then did his best to assure her that the friendly old Chief of Beqa would see to it that James came to no serious harm.
Meanwhile, at first light, James had gone off in the yacht’s speed boat to within half a mile of the coast, then had been taken on to a native-paddled craft and carried ashore. As he had not returned by the time the others had finished a late breakfast, it could be taken as certain that the old Vunivalu of Beqa had agreed to allow him to attempt the fire-walk. The anchor was hauled up and the yacht headed for the deeper waters to the west.
The day’s fishing did not prove very successful. Olinda showed no interest and Gregory’s thoughts, also, were too occupied with James for him to concentrate fully on the sport. Manon did best by catching several medium-sized colourful fish and a large walu, fried slices of which they enjoyed at dinner. Gregory landed only an angel fish and a sea snake, then hooked some weighty, unidentified monster—probably a Tuna—which, after he had played it for only a few minutes, snapped his line.
That night they returned to the anchorage off Beqa and the following morning, as none of them felt like going fishing again, they decided to remain there, although it was uncertain whether James would rejoin them that day. If he had spent the past twenty-four hours fasting in seclusion and there had been nothing to prevent the fire-pit from being prepared that morning they should learn from him soon after midday of his success or failure. But it might be that, as he was not a native of Beqa, more prolonged preparation for the ordeal was necessary, or that ancient custom dictated that fire-walks should be undertaken only at a certain phase of the moon.
This last possibility worried Gregory considerably, as if they had to remain off Beqa for any length of time that would give Lacost so long a lead that he might get up the gold and make off with it before they could reach Tujoa. But he endeavoured to console himself with the thought that securing the treasure was of secondary importance to James’ being able, once and for all, to free himself from his fear of Roboumo.
By ten o’clock the sky had clouded over and it began to drizzle. Olinda, already in a state of feverish anxiety, walked the deck restlessly, cursing the weather; although Gregory assured her that, if the ‘party’ were on, light, warm rain would have no effect on the heat of the stones, so would not lead to a postponement. Manon alone had no reason to be worried, as James meant nothing to her, but she tactfully suppressed her normal high spirits and endeavoured to show the same concern as the others.
The morning seemed endless and, with poor appetites, they ate their lunch almost in silence. Up on deck again, they sat staring out into the mist that now nearly obscured the island, miserably aware that they might have to keep up their uneasy vigil for another twenty-four hours or more.
The dreary hours of the sunless afternoon dragged by. Wrapped in coats and rugs against the mist, they sat on, facing the vaguely-seen coast: Olinda telling the beads of her rosary and murmuring prayers, Gregory from time to time scanning through binoculars the partially obscured patches of jungle that stood between the village and the beach, and Manon doing her best to conceal her boredom.
A little before six they came to the conclusion that they would have to remain at anchor there for at least another day, and stood up to go below. It was then, as Gregory gave the murky vista a last sweep with his glasses, that he suddenly sighted a boat coming towards them. The now-fading light, added to the mist, had caused him to miss seeing it as it put off, and it was already some way from the shore. Quickly he pointed it out to the others; then Olinda shouted to Captain Amedo to send the speed boat in to meet it.
Now, lining the rail, they waited with almost unbearable impatience, striving to pierce the gloom and see if the native boat carried James, returning to them, or if it bore only a messenger to report that the fire-walk had had, for some reason, to be delayed.
The speed boat met the native craft about halfway from the shore and a figure transferred to it. But many of the natives of Beqa were as tall as James, so his friends could still not tell if it was him or a messenger.
Another agonising five minutes passed; then Olinda, to whom Gregory had passed the binoculars, cried: ‘It’s he! It’s he! And he can’t have been maimed, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to step so easily from one boat into the other. Oh, Holy Mary be praised!’
Gregory and Manon could also by then recognise the figure in the stern of the speed boat as James. He waved to them and they all waved back. But the all-important question still remained. Had he passed through the ordeal unscathed or had he, at the last moment, allowed fear to overcome him and refused the trial?
As the speed boat drew alongside the yacht, they had the answer. James’ handsome face was lit with a radiant smile that told its own story. No man who had to confess failure through lack of courage could have worn such an expression. When he scrambled aboard, Olinda, sobbing with relief, threw her arms about him and, regardless of onlookers, kissed him again and again with fervid passion. No sooner had she released him than Manon went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, Gregory and Captain Amedo shook him warmly by the hand, and the crew, although ignorant of his reason for having stayed ashore overnight, but realising that he must have achieved some triumph, cheered him lustily.
With flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, Olinda told Captain Amedo that all the crew were to be given an extra month’s pay and a good ration of wine with their meal that evening. Down in the saloon, the steward produced two magnums of the late Valentim’s best champagne, and James’ friends drank his health again and again as he told his story.
It had taken the whole of the previous morning to persuade the old Chief to let him attempt the fire-walk, so he had not started his twenty-four hours of segregation until well on in the afternoon. While in the darkened bure, he had followed the Chief’s instructions and told himself countless times, hour after hour, until it had resulted in self-hypnosis, that he would feel no pain when he walked over the hot stones.
When he had emerged, everything had been made ready for the ordeal and the whole population of the village had assembled to watch. At the sight of the slight drizzle sizzling on the hot stones, thus turning into steam, his courage had ebbed, but the Vunivalu had taken him by the hand, told him that he must not look at the stones but straight ahead of him, then personally led him down into the pit. Concentrating his whole mind on Olinda, he had visualised her standing waiting for him on the opposite brink of the pit. His body had seemed to become lighter, the heat about him was so intense that it had vaguely crossed his mind that his clothes might catch fire, but he had felt no pain on the soles of his feet, only a swift tingling. Before he fully realised it, his ordeal was over, the Vunivalu was embracing him and giving him the nose-kiss, the villagers were shouting their applause and he was being escorted to the Meeting House for a yaggona ceremony.
He had only just finished his account when Olinda’s chef appeared to say
that, with the Senhora’s permission, he proposed to put on a gala dinner. In the meantime quite a sea had got up, so Olinda told her Captain that they would lie under the shelter of Beqa for the night and not sail for Tujoa until the following morning. Manon, still anxious to delay their arrival for as long as possible, then renewed her invitation for them to visit her island.
Olinda looked across at Gregory, silently consulting him before making a reply. He did not want to give Lacost a free hand for too long at Tujoa, but the Boa Viagem would make the voyage more quickly than the Pigalle, and the Mamanucas lay almost on the direct course for the Nakapoas; so, knowing that Olinda would like to arrange about Valentim’s grave, he said he thought it would be a good idea.
By midday on Sunday they anchored off Manon’s island, and in the afternoon all went ashore to accompany Olinda, clad and veiled in deep black, on a formal visit to her late husband’s grave. Meanwhile, old Joe-Joe had performed miracles with his staff to provide his mistress and her guests with an excellent dinner in the big bure.
That night they slept aboard. Next morning James gave Joe-Joe instructions about the reburial of de Carvalho in a stone-lined grave, and passed on to him a sum that Olinda had given him for the work and upkeep of the grave. After lunch they sailed again and dropped anchor off Revika shortly before midday on Wednesday, May 4th.
James had taken it for granted that the others would be his guests while on Tujoa but, when preparations were being made to go ashore, Olinda drew him aside and said:
‘Darling, as we are to marry when my formal period of mourning is over, I do feel that, for both our sakes, I ought to protect my reputation in the eyes of your people. Manon is a gay and pleasant creature but … well, hardly the sort of woman who would be regarded in many quarters as a satisfactory chaperon. Of course, I shall love to come ashore and see your home and the island, but I think it would be best if I continued to sleep aboard the yacht.’
The White Witch of the South Seas Page 32
