Herman Wouk - Don't Stop The Carnival

by Don't Stop The Carnival(Lit)

  "So I did," Mrs. Ball said with a husky laugh. "I did indeed. Oh, Douglas, how kind of you! Thank you. Douglas, you've met Norman Paperman, haven't you?"

  Douglas was a tall heavy man with bushy, sandy hair, a big sandy mustache, a red handsome face, and bulging veined eyes. He carried two full champagne glasses. Amy had introduced him before as Commander Something-Something- Scott-Gresham, or Marple-Twayde- Norman didn't recall the name. The commander had talked at length to Norman about Amerigo, in a crackling British accent, using the words actually, tremendous, and fantastic in much the way Lester Atlas employed obscenities. He was looking into the possibilities of starting a new airline in the West Indies, he had told Norman.

  "What do you think, dear?" Mrs. Ball said, accepting a glass of champagne and draining it. "Horrid old Norman here only wants to give me five thousand dollars for all those notes. Isn't that mangy and beastly of him?"

  "Very beastly. However, it's five thousand more than nothing at all, pet," said the sandy man. "Actually."

  "Douglas is my new business partner." Mrs. Ball took the commander's arm and snuggled. "We may start a brand-new island airline together, Norman. I mean wouldn't it be fantastic if we had some decent planes and pilots flitting about the Caribbean, instead of the lunatics we've got now, in those frightening old kites?"

  "It would be an improvement, yes."

  "The growth possibilities are tremendous, actually," said Douglas.

  "Of course, if I did take Norman's miserable, insulting offer, love," said Mrs. Ball, "we could charter that Cullen yacht next week after all, couldn't we? And just muck about the Greek islands for a while. It would be a lovely change? We could take off any time."

  "Actually, when you think about it, promissory notes are promissory notes," said Douglas, "and money is money."

  "Just so." Amy Ball put out a hand. "Do you want to make it a deal, Norman? It's kind of funny at a party, but still-"

  He shook her hand at once. She looked sly and burst out laughing. "Well, that's that. Funnily enough, you know, I've buggered you and your fearsome Mr. Atlas very royally. I paid Tony and Larry four thousand for the whole lease. Not six, as he said. I've made my money back half a dozen times over. Not bad."

  "Tremendous," said Douglas, squeezing her waist. "She's got a fantastic business head on her, actually."

  Henny came up and said she wanted to visit the cookout to see how Hazel was doing. Mrs. Ball complimented her on her dress, a pink-and-gold sarong from Hassim's shop. Henny looked charming, indeed. She had a rosy tan, and she glowed with the excitement of the party and the pleasure of wearing a new, beautiful dress, a size smaller than usual. The mysterious pain, which had quite disappeared since her arrival, had forced her into dieting, and she was slimmer now than her own daughter. A few drinks had softened the satiric lines in her face and put sparkle in her eyes.

  Norman went with her to the Tilsons, who sat in state at the grand center table of the bar, ringed by friends, Negro and white.

  "Paperman, everything's wonderful. Marvelous. What do you say, folks? Doesn't this beat my Francis Drake parties?"

  There was vigorous agreement around the table, and a little applause. Llewellyn, the banker, said, "Mr. Paperman, you have made the Gull Reef Club a much greater asset to our island. You and your charming wife. Everybody in Kinja admires you both, and we are all grateful to you."

  "Well, you're very kind." Norman turned to Tilson. "All I really wanted to ask was, don't you think we might put on the chateaubriands now?"

  "I'm in your hands," Tilson said. "It couldn't be going better. You just keep doing it your way."

  The long charcoal pit in the sand glowed yellow-white in the moonlit gloom; little flames of blue and garnet danced on the coals. The steaks lay wrapped in thick sheets of foil on a table nearby.

  "I think it's that time, Sheila," Norman called from the top of the beach stairs.

  "Yassuh. Dass what I been tinkin'. Dey got to cook 'most an hour, dey so tick. Girls! You hear de boss. Put on de steaks. If you drops a single one on de sand, start runnin' an' don' never come back."

  Wielding long forks, the girls plopped the heavy purple meat slabs all along the grills, to instant sizzlings and delicious aromas.

  "We does have to keep turning dem, dat fire plenty hot," laughed Sheila. "Dey come out real good, suh. I stay right here and watch."

  "My God, how marvelous that smells," Henny said. "Honestly, you've done an unbelievable job, Norm."

  "I've got Sheila," Norman said. "That was luck."

  As they passed through the thronged lobby, jovial party guests, clustered here and there with plates of hors d'oeuvres and drinks, called compliments at Norman and Henny.

  She said when they came outside, "Listen, is that true about our cute little bartender? What everybody's been saying?"

  "Too true."

  "Good lord. The clap? All seven of them?" Norman nodded. "Where is he? What's happened to him? Have they arrested him?"

  "He's just gone, Henny. They watched the airport, but he never showed. His catamaran isn't at our pier, and it isn't in the marina. My guess is the girls warned him, and he got into his little boat and sailed away. Just sailed off into the sunset, our handsome sailor lad, to start all over in some other island Eden, no doubt. Guadeloupe, Barbados, St. Croix, Nassau, who can say? A good-looking young white bartender as welcome anywhere. Church was born for the Caribbean."

  "He was so-so sweet, somehow. So shy."

  "He was a fire-eating sex maniac. I knew it. I just had to make do. That's the first lesson you learn down here."

  Henny glanced at him as they walked along the lawn, a gloomy place of quiet between the dins of two big parties. "These people I was talking to were awfully gabby. The Campbells. They also said Iris Tramm is that governor's mistress. Is that true? Is it possible?"

  "Why not? He's a pleasant, clever man, and not bad-looking."

  "He's COLORED, Norm."

  "Spoken like a liberal, Henny."

  "Well, is she, or isn't she?"

  "Yes, she is."

  "Did she tell you she was?"

  "Yes, she told me she was. -Watch this brush in through here. Once you get past the flare, it's catch-and-keep."

  They could hear the steel band bang-de-bang-banging on Lovers' Beach, amid confused hilarious noises.

  "I swear, Norm," Henny said, "once you're down here a little while, you begin to feel you've turned over a rock."

  "That's the second lesson of the Caribbean. And there are always more and yet more rocks, kid, with more ugly little surprises always scuttling out from under them. Never a dull moment." She clasped his hand. "What's the matter, honey?"

  "Nothing. I'm nervous. And to tell you the truth, when I saw Iris I felt like crying."

  "She's in bad shape. I don't think she'll make it through the evening. "Neither do I. Keep an eye on her, Henny, will you, when we go back, if the governor gets sidetracked?"

  "Sure I will, Norm."

  4

  "Wow," Henny yelled-she had to yell-when they came out of the newly hacked path through the brush onto Lovers' Beach. "This brawl looks better than the other one!"

  A gigantic bonfire blazed in the middle of the beach, showering red sparks skyward. In the blazing firelight stood the steel-band boys, stripped down to red shorts, thumping and slamming away, eyes prominent, foreheads dripping, big white teeth gleaming, shiny dark bodies reflecting the flames. All around them were writhing, wriggling, almost naked bodies, mostly white, but with a sprinkling of Negroes, among whom Norman recognized some of his prettier chambermaids. Many of the dancers held drinks that splashed and spilled. Girls were shrieking along the beach in the moonlight, chased by baying men. People were splashing in the sea, too, jumping on each other, standing on shoulders, cavorting and wrestling, all this to an obbligato of protesting happy feminine screams. Some of the older guests were sitting at tables, drinking; but many gray or bald heads were among the thronging barefoot dancers on the sand.<
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  Lionel Williams rushed up to them, crowned with a wreath of scarlet hibiscus blossoms, which in the firelight set off his red-streaked green face most engagingly. "Norman, this is the greatest! I've never had so much fun in my life! Nobody has, in our whole crowd. Dan just told me to be sure to book us all in right away for three weeks next Christmas. Dan's gone right through the top of the tent, Norm. He's in orbit. You've got it taped, boy, with this hotel. It's fabulous. It's the end!"

  Lionel shouted all this hoarsely above the music, the singing, the laughter, and the shrieks.

  "I'm glad," Norman said absently. He was looking for Atlas. Hatsy, the larger Maine schoolteacher, was close by, naked to all purposes in a bikini that looked like two white strings, joyously undulating her blistered loins at a UDT man.

  Lionel seized Henny's hand. "Come on, kiddo, tonight's our night to howl. Give your little self a shake-shake-shake."

  "Well, why not?" Henny kicked off her gold slippers and they danced away.

  Now Atlas's other schoolteacher, Patsy, went wiggling past, in the arms of one of the black bartenders hired for the evening. "Patsy, where's Lester?" Norman called.

  "Who knows? Who cares? I haven't seen him. Golly, I love dancing on sand." And she was gone.

  At this moment Norman saw Atlas-at a far table, sitting alone, an elbow on a knee, his head cocked sideways and sunk low, watching the dancers. "Hi, Lester. Having fun?" Norman said, hurrying to him.

  The heavy look on Lester's face gave way to a tired smile. "Why, sure, Norm. This is a swinging party. I just haven't got that old pep tonight, you know? Ate too many spare ribs, I guess." With a shrug of his fat shoulders, Lester fumbled for a cigar at his naked hairy chest, in the place where his shirt pocket usually was. "Every now and then I think about Anaconda Copper, too. It makes me feel kind of run-down and anemic. Lot of blood to lose, Norm. How's the other party going?"

  "Well, it's not as gay as this one."

  "Maybe that's what I need. Too many happy people here. Maybe I'll come over to the hotel." He drained his tumbler of whiskey, and while Norman was still seeking a tactful way to head him off, Atlas groaned. "Oh, hell, I don't want to get dressed. I'm okay here. Hatsy and Patsy are having fun."

  Henny came up disheveled and giggling, holding her slippers. "Well, I found Hazel. She's in the middle of that mess, and honestly, the girl should be arrested for the way she's dancing."

  "Who's she dancing with, Cohn?"

  "It's hard to say. She's sort of throwing it in all directions. Cohn is standing by, looking nonplussed. How goes it, Lester?"

  "Oh, I'm swinging, Henny," said Adas. "Swinging."

  "Well, I just wanted to be sure Hazel hadn't been eaten by a shark or something," Henny said. "But if there's a shark around, I think its mother is the one to worry."

  The Tilson party seemed stately and stiff after the saturnalia on Lovers' Beach, but it had grown even larger, and it was lively enough. It filled the lobby, the bar, and the dance terrace. Most of the people were standing, all had drinks in their hands, and everybody seemed to be talking at once over the dulcet jazz played by the five men in silver coats.

  "Hi, Iris," Norman said, as she approached him in the lobby. "Enjoying yourself?" She went straight past him without turning her head or moving her eyes. She was walking in a stiff, straight-legged way, bent slightly forward, hands hanging down, making for the bar. Norman's first thought was that she was snubbing him. Then he realized that she hadn't seen him. She bumped into one man, and other people got out of her way, whispering to each other.

  Governor Sanders, he perceived, was watching Iris as she went, leaning in a doorway with folded arms. The governor looked gaunt and forbidding in his narrow white silk jacket and ruffled shirt; his face was grim.

  Norman came to him and said in a low voice, "Can't you help her? What she doesn't need is a drink."

  "There's only so much I can do," Sanders said, with an empty little smile. "She just said to me, 'If you don't want me to take this place apart, stop following me, you son of a bitch.'" Sanders twisted his mouth. "It doesn't mean anything, the abuse. That's what you have to realize."

  "What's she likely to do? I mean, what's the worry? The place is a little too well built for her to take apart, really."

  "Oh, that depends, Mr. Paperman. Iris can break up a party by just getting loud. I've seen her do it. She has a voice like Charles Laughton, you know, when she wants to use it, and the vocabulary of a marine. It's very disconcerting, especially to the ladies. They tend to pick up their purses and leave."

  "I've heard her."

  "Or she can lift her dress to her navel and dance around. Or maybe punch a few people. Iris is very strong. I gave her a plateful of food, you know. But she just put it down and went and got a glass of bourbon." Sanders glanced around at the party. "I'm awfully sorry about this. Tom Tilson's a fine fellow. Maybe she'll be all right. The fact is, she's trying to behave."

  Iris was coming back, walking in the same unseeing way. She seemed scarcely aware of the drink in her hand; she held it at an angle, and it spilled as she walked, leaving a wet trail on the tile floor. A dark stain was streaking down the bosom of her dress.

  This time her dulled eyes rested straight on Paperman. "Hi, Norm, great party," she said, writhing her lips around each word. "First goddamn time in a year I've had any goddamn fun. Let's dance."

  "Sure, Iris," he said, holding out his arms, but she walked straight by him and Sanders, sat in a chair, and drank.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Return of Hippolyte

  1

  It was Sheila. She did not say a word. She beckoned.

  "Excuse me," Norman said to the governor. He followed Sheila through the lobby, through the bar, down the beach stairs, past the charcoal pit blanketed with sizzling, snapping steaks, along the shore to where the beach ended in pebbles and an outcrop of rock.

  "Look dah," she said.

  Her outthrust arm pointed to the shadowy stretch of water between the fort's floodlights and the hotel glow. Norman saw what appeared to be a straw basket floating on the water. "That?" he said, pointing.

  "Yas, suh."

  "It's a basket."

  "No, suh."

  "No, you're right. It's a hat, isn't it?"

  "Yas, suh."

  It was, in fact, the kind of hat that the island Frenchmen wore.

  Norman looked at Sheila. "Well, what about it?"

  "I tink dat Hippolyte."

  "Hippolyte? Swimming in the harbor with his hat on, for crying out loud? At midnight?"

  "Hippolyte fonny. He swim all de time wid he hat. He don' like de sun."

  "There's no sun now."

  "No, suh."

  "I mean it's absurd, it's idiotic, swimming with a hat on, especially in the middle of the night."

  "Yes, suh."

  Norman watched the moving hat. "You really think that's Hippolyte."

  "I tink so, suh."

  "Sheila, can you do something for me? Can you go to Lovers' Beach, find Lieutenant Woods, and bring him here kind of fast?"

  "Suh, if I go away, dem girls dey gone ruin dose steaks. Dose steaks dey half done. I got to go back now."

  "Can you send a girl, then? Send the smartest one, and tell her to hurry. Send Delia."

  "Yas, suh. I send Delia. Lootenant what?"

  "Lieutenant Woods. He's a navy lieutenant. From the UDT."

  "Lootenant Woods from de UDT. Yas, suh. Mistuh Pape'mon, where de fot porson?"

  "At Lovers' Beach."

  "I send Delia right now, suh. Lootenant Woods."

  Alone in the gloom, Norman kept his eye on the hat. He could now see a face under it. The man was swimming with a side stroke, bringing only one hand out of the water. Norman began to climb along the rock* in the gloom, toward the point where the swimmer would be landing. Out here on the rocks there was only moonlight, patched with shadows of old thorny trees. He sat on a rock in the shadow
and waited. His mouth felt as it had in former days when he had smoked three packs of cigarettes in a night: parched, sandy, aching. Breathing was an effort, because of the rapid, heavy beat of his heart.

  Hippolyte came stumbling out of the water, glancing about with an ugly scowl. He looked most ridiculous-and at the same time most terrifying-in the big straw hat, brief bedraggled cotton shorts, and nothing else. The machete dripped in his hand.

  "Hello, Hippolyte."

  The swimmer turned around and peered at the shadows. Hippolyte's face seldom showed much expression, but now it did. He was very surprised.