The White Witch of the South Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  James gave Gregory the letter for Elbœuf, and said he had given Aleamotu’a orders that the fire should be lit at seven o’clock the next morning. He added that he had told Olinda of his intentions before leaving her the previous night. Naturally, she was greatly concerned for him and had said she would prefer to spend the day on the yacht. He meant to ask Manon to go off and keep her company, to which he felt sure ‘Mrs. Sallust’ would readily agree.

  As the news of the Ratu’s intention had soon spread, it had created great excitement among his people. Most of the Elders and a considerable crowd had collected to watch the preparations in awed silence. The usual Ceremony of Welcome on his return to the island should have been held that day, but the Elders had accepted the reason for its postponement and were planning a great meke for the following night.

  By eleven o’clock, the work on the pit was completed and, escorted by a large, silent crowd, James returned up the hill to start his twenty-four-hour vigil. Gregory then took Manon off to the yacht, where they found that Olinda had passed a sleepless night and was making herself ill with worry that, although James had done the fire-walk successfully on Beqa, here he might fail and become, instead of a paladin, the laughing stock of his people.

  Gregory, too, was secretly harassed by that fear; but he strove to reassure her and could honestly report that James showed no trace of fear himself. On the contrary, he appeared perfectly calm and confident. Olinda being in such poor shape, Gregory would have liked to remain with her throughout the day, but it was essential that he should learn the result of the warning that had been given to Lacost; so, at midday, he went ashore again, leaving Manon to do her best to distract Olinda’s mind from James’ coming ordeal.

  From the harbour, Gregory drove out in James’ jeep to the Residence, a large French-style Colonial villa built back in the nineties, and lying some way outside the town. On the broad veranda he found Elbœuf enjoying his morning Amoer Picon, and presented James’ letter to him. The old Resident welcomed him courteously, sent a boy to make a Planter’s Punch which, when offered a drink, Gregory said he would prefer, then said:

  ‘It take it you have already heard from Sergeant Marceau that his mission proved unsuccessful?’

  ‘No,’ Gregory replied. ‘If you sent him up to the bure, I missed him, as I left it over two hours ago. But I’m not surprised. What happened?’

  ‘He went out to the Pigalle with two of his men about nine o’clock. Lacost would not even let them go aboard and flatly refused to abandon his operations.’

  ‘Then we shall have to resort to force. As the law is on our side, I assume that, backed by the Ratu’s body-guard, you are willing to order your gendarmes to board the Pigalle?’

  The old man hesitated for a moment, then he said, ‘I suppose we now have no alternative, but I am far from happy at having to give such an order. After all, the Colons have weapons and they are desperate men. There are six of them with, in addition, a native crew; and they will have the advantage of being able to fire on my people from the cover provided by their yacht; whereas Marceau has only six men, and they would have to attack in open boats.’

  Gregory nodded. ‘I appreciate the danger they will run, but they will have the support of about fifty warriors, so the Colons are bound to realise that they will be overcome by weight of numbers. The odds are that after a few shots have been exchanged they will surrender.’

  ‘Theoretically, Monsieur, your argument is sound. But I have little faith in the courage of the Ratu’s men. They are not warriors in the true sense. Unlike their forbears they have never taken part in tribal wars, and are untrained. Even a few shots might scare them into turning tail and abandoning my men.’

  ‘That might well have been the case yesterday,’ Gregory replied, ‘but I have good reason to believe that tomorrow they will show a different mettle.’ He then told the Commandant about the fire-walk that James intended to undertake, and of his conviction that it would bring out in his men the fanatical devotion and courage that they had inherited from their ancestors.

  After expressing astonishment at the Ratu’s daring, Elbœuf said, ‘Personally, I am an agnostic, so have no belief in occult powers. It is, of course, true that Draunikau is still widely practised in the islands and that if a native believes that the curse of death has been put upon him he will pine away and die. I have known many such cases; but that is attributable to self-hypnosis. The tales one hears of dead men being raised from their graves and imbued with new life as zombies, of fakirs lying on beds of nails without becoming scarred, walking through fire, yet remaining unburned, and so on, fall into a very different category. All of them are based on clever trickery, and I have no doubt that the islanders of Beqa long ago devised some means of deceiving onlookers. If they passed their secret on to the Ratu he may succeed in fooling his people. Otherwise, I fear he will be bitterly disillusioned and suffer a grave humiliation.’

  Gregory, too, on considering the matter again that morning, had been subject to serious misgivings. He did not, for one moment, doubt that James had performed the fire-walk on Beqa, but he could not help wondering if he had been able to accomplish it only because the Chief had either hypnotised him into a deep trance in which he would not be conscious of pain or, unknown to him put some powerful drug into the last meal he had had before beginning his fast. Were that so, without such aid he must fail, which would have a most disastrous effect both on his own mentality and his prestige with his people. But to have raised such questions with James could only have undermined his confidence in himself so, the die having been cast, Gregory had decided that he must now let matters take their course, and he countered Elbœuf’s scepticism by asserting that ‘faith could move mountains’.

  When he had finished his drink the Commandant pressed him to stay on to lunch. As he now had twenty-four hours to fill, he gladly accepted. Having spent most of his life in the South Seas, the old man was a mine of information about the natives and their customs, and his cook produced a Lobster Americaine, followed by a rum omelette that could not have been bettered outside France; so for a very pleasant couple of hours Gregory was able from time to time to put out of his mind his anxiety about James.

  On returning to the Royal bure, he found that Aleamotu’a had mustered the body-guard and was endeavouring to instil a war-like spirit into it. They were a fine-looking collection of men, with muscular bodies, holding themselves very upright and, including their great puffs of crinkly, black hair, averaging not less than six foot three in height; but their weapons left much to be desired. Only eight of them were armed with comparatively modern repeating rifles; the rest had shotguns, and a few only ancient muzzle-loading muskets. Nevertheless, laughing and chattering, they were entering into the spirit of the game like happy children.

  After two hours napping on his bed in the bure still faintly redolent of Manon’s seductive scent, Gregory went down to the harbour; for it had occurred to him that, with James in seclusion, it was very probable that no arrangements had yet been made for the body-guard to carry out a sea-borne attack on the Pigalle.

  At the small police station he introduced himself to Sergeant Marceau, whom he found to be a paunchy little man with a ruddy face, close-cropped hair and an indolent manner—the last, no doubt, having been acquired during years spent; in a tropical backwater where there was little serious crime to occupy him.

  Having given Gregory a personal account of his abortive mission that morning, the Sergeant went on to say that he hoped his master, the Resident, would not order an attack on the Pigalle, as he had only six men and no faith at all in the native auxiliaries who were to support them. However, it transpired that his small arsenal was considerably larger than Gregory had expected. It contained one heavy machine gun, four Sten guns, a rifle and pistol for each man, and several dozen hand-grenades and tear-gas bombs.

  Much comforted by this, Gregory suggested that the gendarmes should go armed with the machine weapons, and grenades, and loan the surplus r
ifles to members of the Ratu’s body-guard. Marceau proved most reluctant to hand over any of his weapons to the natives, but finally agreed that to get the best value out of them it would be wise to do so.

  For transport he could provide only one motor launch which was used for occasional anti-smuggling patrols. He added that the Ratu owned several large war canoes, but they were chocked up in boathouses and it was so long since they had been used that it was certain they would prove unsea-worthy. Brushing aside the idea of canoes, Gregory declared that they must commandeer other motor craft, of which there were several in the harbour. To that Marceau agreed and they left the office together, the Sergeant to make the necessary arrangements and Gregory, feeling that there was no more he could do, to go off in James’ speed boat to the Boa Viagem.

  Down in the saloon, he found that Manon had inveigled Olinda into playing a game of six-pack bezique, but on Gregory’s appearance she impatiently pushed the cards aside and enquired anxiously for news. He could tell her only that Lacost had defied the police and that, since a little before midday, James had gone into seclusion.

  By then it was time for a drink, and Gregory decided that the kindest thing he could do for Olinda would be to get her good and high, so that she would, at all events, sleep a good part of the night.

  Going to the bar, he compounded a killer cocktail, putting into each of three large goblets good measures of cordial Médoc, green Chartreuse and brandy, then filling them up with champagne. As the wine disguised the strength of the spirits with which it had been loaded, both the girls enjoyed the drink without suspecting its potency, and happily accepted a second ration. To Olinda he gave the mixture as before, but did no more than flavour the champagne for Manon and himself. Manon, meanwhile, had switched on the record player and Olinda had become perceptibly more cheerful. Shortly before dinner was due, Captain Amedo came in to enquire if there was anything he could do for her and she invited him to make a fourth.

  During the meal Gregory kept the champagne going, and to outward appearances it was a merry party; but the others were aware that Olinda was only putting a brave face on things and was all the while worrying herself into a fever about what might happen to James next day. She stuck it out until the pudding, a Zabaglione, was served. Then she suddenly burst into tears and hurriedly got up from the table.

  Manon rose, too, but she was on the opposite side of the table and Gregory caught her arm while Captain Amedo took Olinda’s and supported her out of the dining cabin. As they moved towards the door, Gregory snatched up a couple of dry biscuits from the cheese tray, thrust them into Manon’s hand and said in a swift whisper:

  ‘Now go after her. I don’t want her to be sick, so you must prevent her from lying down. Sit her in a chair and make her nibble these while you get behind her and massage her temples with eau-de-Cologne. Talk to her soothingly and tell her we’ll stay on board tonight, in case she needs us. When she has quietened down, undo her hair and keep brushing it until she becomes drowsy. The odds are she’ll have some aspirins in her cabin. If so, give her a couple, then get her to bed.’

  With a half-humorous grimace, Manon replied, ‘You would make a good psychologist, but are a lousy husband. Drink and tears are just what the poor dear needed, though, and between us, with luck, we’ll get her off for a good night’s sleep.’

  When Amedo rejoined Gregory they told the steward to clear the table and helped themselves to liqueur brandies. The Captain had heard enough of what was happening on shore to be aware of the reason for Olinda’s collapse, but he knew nothing about the projected attack on the Pigalle; so Gregory told him what was being planned, then went on:

  ‘Those Colons are real toughs, so it’s certain that they will put up a fight and it is going to be a very nasty business. I would gladly have the help of yourself and your crew, but it would not be right to ask it. This is a private quarrel, and there would be no justification for risking you or any of them being killed or wounded. But there is one way in which you could help us.’

  Amedo gave a courteous little bow, ‘You are correct, Señhor, in that I have no right to expose my men to danger in such an affair, but, that apart, be pleased to express your wishes.’

  ‘It is a matter of arms,’ Gregory replied. ‘Unfortunately, very few of the Ratu’s body-guard have modern weapons, so they will be at a great disadvantage against the Colons. In a yacht such as this it is usual to carry a few firearms against emergencies and, if that is the case with you, I should be most grateful if I might have the loan of them.’

  ‘We have two rifles, four sporting guns and, including my own, three pistols. Provided the Señhora gives her permission, I should be happy to place them at your disposal.’

  ‘Thank you, Captain. I’m sure the Señhora will agree, and that will enable me to equip much more satisfactorily several of the Ratu’s men who have only muzzle-loading muskets.’ After a moment Gregory added with a smile, ‘As they have never handled repeaters, we must hope there won’t be any accidents, but that is my responsibility.’

  For three-quarters of an hour they talked very amicably, then Captain Amedo excused himself and went off to his quarters. Shortly afterwards Manon came in, smiled at Gregory and said, ‘Olinda wasn’t sick and I managed to calm her down. I found her aspirin, too, and gave her a couple. Soon after, she dropped off and she is now sleeping soundly; so as a doctor you are to be congratulated.’

  Giving a laugh, he stood up, crushed her to him in a tight embrace that almost drove the breath out of her body, and said, ‘Well done, my sweet. And although a cabin won’t be quite as cosy as our bure, I’ll show you that I can also be a competent husband.’

  Gasping, she laughed back. ‘Having made me half-tight, you’d better, or I’ll go along and seduce the handsome Captain.’ Then her full lips melted on his in a long kiss.

  In the morning, soon after half past ten, Olinda joined them in the saloon, pale but calm and, to their surprise, dressed entirely in white, with her dark hair falling to her shoulders. Seeing their expressions, she gave a faint smile, and said:

  ‘I didn’t meant to go ashore, but I have changed my mind. I know James was against our seeing him do his fire-walk at Beqa, but this is different. Hundreds of people will be watching and I’ve decided that I ought to be present. If he succeeds, that will be wonderful. But if he fails, at least I shall be there to comfort him, and I’ll make it known to all his people that I mean to marry him.’

  Realising that for her to watch James undergoing his ordeal would mean almost as severe a one for her, Gregory and Manon both praised her courage; but she waved aside their compliments and led the way on deck. The launch was brought alongside and, after a word with her Captain, Amedo had the weapons and ammunition he had collected put into it. By eleven o’clock they were landed on the harbour. James’ jeep was still there where Gregory had parked it. The arms were loaded into it, then he drove the two girls up through the town to the Meeting House.

  As was to be expected, the whole town had turned out to witness the fire-walk. The sloping hillside was black with people, only an area round the pit being kept clear by Sergeant Marceau and his gendarmes. Near it were grouped the Council of the Elders. With them was Commandant Elbœuf, and, standing a little apart, the sinister figure of Roboumo. The Elders solemnly welcomed Gregory and his party and brought out chairs for them to sit on.

  Aleamotu’a was in charge of the proceedings. From time to time he glanced at his wrist watch and, as they sat watching him, the time of waiting seemed interminable. At last, he gave a signal. A score of men then ran forward and, giving excited cries, began with long, wire hawsers to drag the smouldering logs out of the pit. It took nearly a quarter of an hour before they had cleared the crater down to its level of large rounded stones, and another ten minutes before they had finished prodding the stones with poles until Aleamotu’a was satisfied that no rough corners upon which his Ratu might trip were left protruding. He then took a cardboard carton from a nearby man, who had
been holding it ready for him, and hurled it into the centre of the pit. Within seconds it burst into flame and in less than a minute was reduced to ashes. A gasp of awe ran through the watching multitude.

  There followed several minutes of appalling strain, then faintly there came up to them the tinny chime of the clock in the tower of the little church down on the harbour, striking midday. Suddenly, all heads were turned towards the garden sloping up to the Royal bure, and a great sigh went up from the huge crowd. Walking slowly and very erect, James, alone and unattended, was advancing down the slope.

  An utter silence fell as everyone, from the Resident to the humblest present, stared at him with fascinated expectancy. When he was within fifty feet of the pit, Olinda stood up, walked forward to the edge of the pit opposite him and held out her arms.

  Instantly it flashed on Gregory why she had decided to come ashore. James had said that when he did his fire-walk on Beqa he had had a vision of her on the far side of the pit. Now she was bringing that vision to life. Clad all in white, like an angel come to earth, she stood there, her arms extended and her eyes fixed on his, willing him to come to her.

  Without a second’s hesitation he stepped down into the pit, walked with quick, firm steps across the twenty feet of stones, came up on the far side and took her in his arms.

  The shout of applause that went up was ear-splitting. For minutes on end the crowd cheered itself hoarse. As though at a given signal, James’ subjects threw themselves on their knees and bowed their heads to the ground. Coming to their feet again, they swarmed towards him, hoping to touch his sacred person. Only with the greatest difficulty did the gendarmes and Elders fend them off and get James and Olinda into the Meeting House.

  They had to remain there for half an hour before order was restored. Meanwhile, James told the Elders that after his ordeal he needed complete rest, so the yaggona ceremony they had planned and a great meke for that evening must be postponed until the following day.