The White Witch of the South Seas

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘Of course I’ll look after her,’ Manon promised. Then Gregory turned and followed James out of the bure.

  Directly they were outside James said, The whole of our force is down on the harbour. I brought Roboumo’s men back with me in our boats, so that they would be with us to receive our instructions about attacking the Pigalle. I came up to the bure only because I was told that you had taken the White Witch up here; and I would not have dreamed of launching the attack without your counsel.’

  ‘We’ve not lost much time,’ Gregory replied. ‘The moon cannot have set much more than a quarter of an hour ago; and instead of having to go right round to the site of the wreck, where the Pigalle was anchored, we now have to go only a mile or so on the far side of the mole.’

  James, who was in great distress, then began to give vent to his fears for Olinda, but Gregory cut him short by saying, ‘Dear boy, I know how you must feel, but please don’t talk about it now. I’ve got to think—to think hard—of a way in which to trick Lacost, and I’ve got little enough time to do it in.’ So, for the rest of the way down the long slope of the garden, across the open space in which the Meeting House stood and through the sleeping town, they walked in silence.

  When they reached the harbour Gregory said, ‘What we have to do is to prevent Lacost from taking alarm, ordering the yacht to forge full speed ahead and shooting us to pieces before there is time for our flotilla to come up. I’ve had one idea how we might achieve that. Whether it will come off or not, God alone knows. If it doesn’t, you and I will be dead within the next half-hour. But I see no alternative to trying it. To play this trick I’ll need two pieces of strong fishing net, each about twenty feet square, and a dozen pieces of wire all about three metres long and a third of a centimetre thick.’

  Beckoning to one of his men who normally was a wharf hand, James told him what was required; and he went off to knock up a nearby ship chandler, who would have the type of wire required, and who could quickly cut it into lengths. Aleamotu’a then joined James, and Gregory briefed them on the tactics that he had thought out.

  The Ratu’s cabin cruiser was to be used by the two of them, James’ coxswain and Kalabo. The boat was to approach the Boa Viagem unaccompanied, and tie up under her stern. James was to parley with Lacost and refuse, for the time being, to go on board. He was to show the licence, upon which Lacost would say that it was useless to him without a transfer. James would then go into the small cabin and spend several minutes writing one out. Lacost would require that it be witnessed. James would have this done by Kalabo and his coxswain. Next, James would refuse to hand over the papers until Olinda was lowered into the boat. It was certain that Lacost, suspecting that he meant to make off with her, would refuse. An argument, which James was to keep going as long as possible, would then ensue. When they reached stalemate James was to flash a torch on to the papers and hold it there for some moments, pretending to do so in order that Lacost, by peering over the stern rail, might see that they were in order, then offer to hand them up simultaneously with Olinda being put over the side. As Lacost leaned over, James was to drop the papers, throw the torch high into the air, leap up, seize Lacost by the wrists and endeavour to drag him over into the boat. If he succeeded he was to hold Lacost in front of him as a shield against being fired upon.

  Meanwhile, the other nine most speedy motor boats in the harbour would have been manned. The crew of each was to take with it two or three anchors from small rowing boats and canoes. These, with lengths of thick rope attached to them, were, when the boats came alongside the yacht, to be thrown up as grapples, so that they would catch on the rail of the yacht and boarding parties could swarm up the ropes dangling from them.

  The flotilla was to muster on the inner side of the mole. Two watchmen were to be stationed on it. When they saw the light of James’ torch, as he threw it up into the air, that would be the signal. Led by Aleamotu’a, the boats were to round the end of the mole and make at all possible speed for the yacht. Each crew was to act independently of the others, board the yacht and show no mercy to the Colons, capturing them if they surrendered or killing them without hesitation should they put up the least resistance.

  Aleamotu’a translated into Nakapoan such parts of Gregory’s instructions as applied to the main force, shouting them so that all could hear. They responded eagerly, crying ‘Bole! Bole!’, beating their chests and each boastfully declaring that he would kill two—three—four Colons at the least.

  As they dispersed to make their preparations, Gregory’s party went on board James’ cruiser, taking with them the pieces of fishing net and wire for which Gregory had asked. Five minutes later the cruiser rounded the end of the mole and headed towards the Boa Viagem, the position of which could be seen by her riding lights as she lay at anchor about a mile away.

  Gregory went into the low cabin, took off his clothes and emerged a few minutes later, stark naked. As he appeared, James exclaimed anxiously, ‘What on earth …! Oh, my dear friend! What are you about to do?’

  ‘Have a dip,’ Gregory smiled. ‘The wash from our propeller will scare off any sharks that may be about. I shall be dropping over the side when we get to within about two hundred yards of the yacht. You must slow down so that I can continue to hang on. Then I want you to drape the bundles of fishing net over each side of the boat’s bows so that they look like bumpers.’

  ‘How do you mean to use them?’

  ‘You’ll see, if my idea comes off. I wish to God that we had half a dozen of the gendarmes’ grenades, but we couldn’t possibly spare the time to dig old Elbœuf out of bed and get his authority for the police to let us have them. Still, I’m hoping the nets will serve our purpose.’

  By then they were within a quarter of a mile of the Boa Viagem. They could make out her outline quite clearly, but there was no sign of the Pigalle, so evidently the Colons had by this time transferred the treasure to the other yacht and had scuttled their old tub.

  A few minutes later the cruiser slowed down and Gregory slipped overboard into the warm sea, with the lengths of thin wire looped round his neck.

  As they approached the yacht, a hail came from her and a small beam light was switched on; but when it focused on the boat Gregory could not be seen as his head was below her gunwale and he was being drawn along with her only by the clutching fingers of one hand on it.

  James answered the hail and was told to come alongside. Instead his coxswain brought the boat close in under the stern of the yacht. As the beam of light showed clearly that there were only three men in the boat and none of them was carrying arms, no protest was made at this manœuvre. A moment later, Lacost, holding a pistol in one hand, was peering down into her and speaking in French to James.

  The conversation between them proceeded on the lines that Gregory had planned. Meanwhile, he had drawn the whole of one of the bundles of fishing net into the water and, as swiftly as he could, was wrapping it round the starboard propeller of the yacht. It was no easy task as the propeller, being well under water, could not be seen in the darkness caused by the overhang of the stern of the yacht, and every minute or two he had to come up for air.

  When he had managed, as well as he could, to entangle the propeller in many folds of net, he twisted six of the lengths of wire round the bundle to keep it in place.

  Coming up for a longer breather, he listened anxiously to the conversation going on above. It had reached the stage where Lacost, now angry and impatient, was telling James that the transfer of the licence he had just written out would not be legal unless it was witnessed.

  Swiftly Gregory dived under the prow, came up on the far side and drew the other bundle of net down into the water. Alternately going right under, fumbling wildly in the dark, then coming up to gasp in air, he fouled the port propeller in the same way as he had the starboard one.

  But after having firmly twisted together the ends of four lengths of wire he felt he dare stay no longer, and surfaced with the two remaining lengths of wir
e still round his neck. Immediately he saw that a stronger light glowed in the vicinity of the boat, so knew that the critical stage had been reached when James would be holding up the documents for Lacost to see, and shining his powerful torch upon them.

  A moment later the light dimmed, for James had thrown his torch high into the air. There came a cry, the crack of a pistol and a tremendous thump. That told Gregory that Lacost had fallen into the trap that had been set for him. James had jumped, grabbed Lacost’s wrists and pulled him over the rail so that they had crashed on to the deck together. But that shot. Had James been killed or wounded?

  In awful suspense Gregory waited, holding on to the prow of the boat with one hand. He heard the sounds of curses and a struggle only a few feet above his head. Excited, angry shouts came from the stern of the yacht. Then James’ voice came clear and loud:

  ‘I have your Captain! Now I’ve got him, I’ll kill him unless you do as I say. Bring the Señhora. Bring her and lower her into the boat and I’ll give you the papers and him in exchange.’

  James’ inspiration for making the best use of his captive was an improvement on Gregory’s hastily-made plan, and he gave him full marks for it. The offer must result in creating just the delay needed for the flotilla to make the greater part of its way from the harbour. And, in making the offer, James must know perfectly well that if he had to carry out his promise to give up Lacost and the documents, he would get both back after his men had captured the Boa Viagem.

  A heated argument broke out up on the stern deck of the yacht. Evidently all the other Colons were assembled there. One cried, ‘Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! You will kill Pierre.’

  Another was for abandoning Lacost and making off.

  Lacost’s voice came from close overhead in a furious bellow, ‘Felix, you are an imbecile! Without me as your leader you would be captured in a week.’

  The others, too, shouted down the man who wanted to cut and run.

  ‘No! No! Pierre has the brains. And we must have the licence.’

  ‘Yes, we dare not sail without the licence.’

  ‘The licence! Yes, it would be as much as our necks are worth to leave without it.’

  ‘Pierre is the only one among us capable of marketing our haul.’

  ‘What does the woman matter? Once we get the money we’ll have scores of the bitches.’

  Again Lacost’s voice broke in urgent, commanding. ‘Alphonse, go and fetch the Senhora.’

  The excited shouts fell to swift murmurings. Now that the babel had subsided, Gregory, his face only just above water, listened intently. At once he caught the purr of motor engines. Down there at sea level was the best place to catch distant sounds, but he knew that in a few minutes the men above him must also hear them.

  Another two minutes passed. Again the voices up on the stern deck grew louder. Then came James, his voice vibrant with relief and delight. ‘Olinda! Olinda! Thank God you are all right. I have been worried out of my wits.’

  She called back to him, ‘James! My James! How wonderful! I … I can hardly believe I am not dreaming.’

  Racked with anxiety Gregory continued to listen. He could now hear the approaching flotilla more distinctly.

  Suddenly one of the Colons cried, ‘Listen! Motor boats are coming in our direction.’

  Another laughed. ‘You fool. It is only the fishermen going out to spear fish.’

  ‘Not at this hour,’ the first man snapped. ‘Listen, I say! Listen! There are many boats heading towards us. I swear it!’

  A sudden silence fell. The roar made by the engines of the flotilla could now be heard by everyone. One of the Colons shouted, ‘Look! I can see them! Four! No, six eight a dozen.’

  The man who had wanted to abandon Lacost yelled, ‘We are betrayed. We are betrayed. I sensed it. We should have left at once.’

  Another, more resolute and commanding, voice took over. ‘Keep calm. Provided we can prevent them from boarding us, we’ll get away.’

  Lacost’s voice came urgent, pleading. ‘For God’s sake, save me. Throw the woman down into the boat and I’ll climb aboard somehow.’

  James cut into his plea by shouting to Olinda in English, ‘Pretend you have fainted. Slide down on the deck and lie there, then none of these brutes will harm you.’

  Ignoring Lacost’s appeal, the man who had taken charge bellowed, ‘Jean! To the bridge! Run! Give her full speed ahead and we’ll outdistance them. Raoul! To the forward capstan! Get the anchor up. We drag it till it’s in.’

  In spite of the almost total darkness beyond the area lit by the light of the yacht, the phosphorescent bow waves, churned up by the leading boats of the flotilla, could now be seen as they rushed swiftly towards the prow and midships of the Boa Viagem.

  Suddenly her engines began to throb. But she made no movement. Gregory’s strategem had worked. Both her propellers turned, but, clogged by a mass of netting and wire, were unable to force her forward.

  As the boats came alongside, the men in them were shouting war-cries that had not been used for a generation. Throwing their grapples on to the rails of the yacht, they swarmed up the ropes on to the deck. A machine gun opened fire, Sten guns clattered, the staccato crack of dozens of rifles pierced the din.

  Gregory grasped the bow of the motor boat and hauled himself, dripping, into it. James had been holding Lacost in front of him, one hand round his waist, the other clutching his throat. Letting him go for a moment he pulled a pistol from his pocket and, as Lacost lurched forward, hit him a hard blow with it on the back of the head. The Frenchman gave a gasp, staggered for an instant, then fell forward, unconscious, on the deck.

  At Gregory’s appearance, James cried, ‘Well done! Well done! It must be your work that prevents the yacht moving and getting away from us.’

  Gregory nodded. ‘Yes, I fouled her propellers. Now our chaps are aboard, the Colons don’t stand an earthly chance.’

  ‘Praise be! A thousand times I bless you!’ James responded in great excitement. ‘But Olinda is up there on deck. I must get her. And my men are fighting. I must show myself to them.’

  With a gesture that embraced the coxswain, Kalabo and Gregory, he added, ‘Come, all of you. Up on to the deck and show these swinish Frenchmen that we are not afraid of them.’

  Jumping at the stern rail of the Boa Viagem, he seized it low down and scrambled up. Kalabo and his coxswain followed him. But Gregory did not. He was no longer young and his efforts to foul the propellers of the yacht had exhausted him. Staggering to the stern of the boat, he collapsed on to a seat and remained there, his head in his hands and lolling forward so that it was only a few inches above his knees.

  As he strove to regain his breath and still the violent beating of his heart, he thought, ‘We’ve got Lacost, the yacht can’t move and it’s certain there won’t be any serious resistance. This is James’ show. He no longer needs my help. I’ll leave him to handle it now, then he’ll get all the credit for rescuing Olinda.’

  From Olinda his thoughts drifted to the White Witch. Instantly he jerked erect and, sitting rigid, stared wide-eyed into the darkness. A sudden flash of memory had recalled to him the occasion when he had first heard the White Witch mentioned.

  It had been in Brazil at the beginning of the Great Rain on the night that he had first met Manon. They had gone to the Macumba ceremony, then taken refuge in the Macumba priest’s bungalow. He had cast the bones for Manon told her that she would have a new lover and was already involved with one with whom she was concerned in a financial transaction. He had gone on to ask her if she had ever killed anybody, and she had admitted that she had. Then he had told her that a White Witch would cross her path and that she must kill again. Unless she killed the White Witch when she had the chance, her life and all her hopes would be ruined.

  His brain reeling, Gregory forced himself to his feet. He had left the White Witch unconscious and in Manon’s power. He must return at once. But would he be in time to save her?

  2
1

  A Fateful Dawn

  His tiredness forgotten, Gregory made for the bow of the boat. To get to it he had to step over Lacost’s unconscious body which lay sprawled face downward on the deck. On reaching the bow, he fumbled frantically to undo the painter that kept the nose of the boat close up under the Boa Viagem’s stern. As he was no seaman, he found the knots intricate and the pull from the rocking boat had tightened them. Moreover, splashes of water had made the rope wet. Cursing, Gregory tore at the knot. A good three minutes passed before, at the cost of two broken fingernails, he had managed to undo it.

  Jumping back over Lacost’s prostrate body, he reached the stern, switched on the boat’s engine and flung the gear into reverse. His thoughts were now miles from the Boa Viagem, away up in the Royal bure, with Manon and the Witch; so he was aware only subconsciously that the firing above had ceased.

  As the boat backed away, James appeared at the stern rail of the yacht, with Olinda beside him. ‘What the devil are you doing?’ he called to Gregory. ‘Why have you cast off?’

  Gregory made no reply, switched the gear into neutral and gave the wheel a sharp twist that brought the boat round broadside on.

  James, thinking that he was about to nose in again, cried in excited triumph, ‘It’s all over! One dead and the others prisoners. Bring her under the stern and I’ll lower Olinda to you.’

  To his astonishment, instead of complying, Gregory pushed the gear lever into full speed ahead and again gave a twist to the wheel. The boat leapt forward, churning up great sheets of spray on either side of the bow and curving round in a wide half-circle until she was heading for the port.

  In vain James shouted after him. Gregory had forgotten the very existence of the yacht. His mind was in a turmoil. The White Witch had been heavily drugged. He had been convinced that Roboumo would not have given her a dose that was likely to kill her or deliberately have poisoned her. He would never have done that as long as he had the faintest hope of keeping her as his prisoner, so that, through the natives’ fear of her, he could continue to exercise his evil power. But people had often been known to die of an overdose of a normally harmless drug. If Manon also recalled the Macumba priest’s prediction, and decided to poison the Witch, she could get away with it. Everyone would believe that the Witch had died as a result of Roboumo’s drug.