The White Witch of the South Seas gs-11

by Dennis Wheatley

  Launching the canoe and getting her ready for sea had taken over an hour; and another three quarters of an hour slipped by before they got her to the mouth of the river. Long before then Gregory realised how right the Robertson brothers had been. Unless they unfurled the sail, it would be impossible to get the heavy craft far enough out to sea before dawn to escape the Russians' sighting her.

  For another hour they laboured on, forcing her gradually up the east coast away from the village; but although the water in the lagoon was relatively calm, owing to the breakers that constantly rolled in, the strain of keeping her heading in the right direction was terrific.

  By then it was getting on for half past two in the morning, and their efforts were clearly slackening. When they had set out, not only had it been at the apex of the dark period of the moon, but by good fortune the sky had been cloudy.

  Since, it had gradually cleared. A million bright stars now faintly lit the scene and Gregory could easily pick out the Southern Cross.

  As this increase of light gradually came about, he had become ever more reluctant to risk drawing attention to the canoe by setting her sail. But now he and his companions were clearly near exhaustion and the canoe was barely making steerage way. Grimly he decided that their only hope of getting out of the lagoon before dawn lay in making use of the sail.

  When he consulted James and the Robertson brothers they all agreed that unless the risk was taken they would either be recaptured or killed by machine gun fire; so Gregory told Woggy and Punch to ship their paddles and free the sail from its lashings.

  A light breeze at once caught the great spread of tapa cloth. James set a course for an opening in the reef and, from having moved at a crawl, the long canoe suddenly leapt forward. As they relaxed, all on board listened with heartfelt delight to the rushing of the water alongside. James tacked once, twice, thrice, then there came a faint shout from the shore.

  Within seconds a Sten gun began to stutter. Next minute thee searchlight came on, swept to and fro, then fixed them in its beam. A heavy machine gun came into play. The occupants of the canoe ducked down behind her gunwale and crouched there, fearful that any moment would be their last. Bullets thudded into the hull of the canoe and ripped through the sail. But James, courageously plying his steering paddle, swung her round on a new tack. For a brief interval they were out of the line of fire, then the bullets came again, several smacking into the mast. The canoe had heeled right over, spray ran in sheets from the prow and she was now racing at twenty knots for the gap in the reef.

  Two minutes later they were through it and shortly afterwards the machine gun ceased its murderous chatter. Sitting up, Gregory cried triumphantly, `We've done it, chaps! No need to worry any more. They have no boats, so can't pursue us.'

  Steered by James, the big canoe rode the seas splendidly.

  Having studied the stars for a few moment, he set a course for the Fijis. The Australians would have preferred to make in the other direction for the Loyalties but Gregory having enabled them to escape from an indefinite captivity, they good humouredly accepted his decision. When dawn came Yuloga was only a smudge on the horizon.

  For some thirty hours, against a contrary breeze, they beat to eastward. Then a storm blew up. It was far from threatening a hurricane, but the gusts were powerful. Just before ten o'clock, without a moment's warning, disaster overtook them. There came a sudden squall, accompanied by driving rain, and the mast snapped off a few feet above the gunwale. The upper part of the mast, the yard and the great sail heeled over and came down with a splash in the sea. The canoe lurched sideways and came to a stop, tilted over at a dangerous angle.

  Frantically, with two axes that had been left in the canoe by the natives, they hacked through the liana cords that held the mast and sail trailing alongside. Ten minutes later they had cut the canoe clear, and she righted herself. But they looked at one another in consternation. They had nothing they could rig as a jury mast and no spare tapa to make even a jib mounted on paddles, so were now at the mercy of the ocean.

  They were, for the time at least, in no danger from thirst or starvation, as, while the Melanesians were repairing the sail, Willy and Frank had stored several dozen fresh coconuts and hands of bananas in the fore and aft parts of the canoe. But, the wind and tide being against them, they now began to drift rapidly back in a westerly direction.

  On examining the stump of the mast, the reason for their calamity became clear. It had been hit by four bullets from the Russians' machine gun, so was weakened to such an extent that, when carrying a big sail, any strong gust of wind would have been enough to snap it off.

  For twenty four hours they were swept back, more or less in the direction of Yuloga, but had fair reason to suppose that they would be carried past it. Then, shortly before midday on the third day after their escape, they sighted a small vessel steaming towards them. As she came nearer, they saw that she was a frigate, flying in her stern the Tricolour.

  Gregory and James were both extremely loath to go aboard a French warship, but beggars could not be choosers. Hailed with relief by the others in the canoe, the frigate hove to alongside and took them all aboard.

  While the frigate was approaching, Gregory fabricated an account of themselves which they must all adhere to, so as to conceal the danger of the French possibly returning them to Yuloga. It was that he and James had been passengers on the Robertson’s' schooner when she had been wrecked, then they had all got ashore on a desert island and found the canoe abandoned there. When they told this story to the Captain of the frigate Gregory and James had good reason to be thankful that while in prison they had retained their aliases George Simonds and Johnny Olourna and all the more so when they learned that, having been on a cruise, the frigate was returning to Noumea.

  Two days later she put into port. The rescued crew of the canoe were paraded before the Immigration Authorities and duly interrogated. The Robertson’s were known there, so they and their crew boys, Woggy and Punch, were passed through, with condolences on the loss of their schooner. Gregory and James were more closely questioned, but their story that they were British subjects from Fiji was accepted.

  Greatly relieved, they were about to leave the office when into it walked the brown faced gendarme belonging to the harbour duty squad, who had bade them bon soir shortly before they had stolen the launch. As they were standing side by side he recognised them immediately, and cried:

  `I arrest these two men. They are the ones sought in connection with the affair at the Hotel Chateau Royal.'

  11 ?Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire

  It was a shattering blow. They had escaped from Noumea on the night of February 17th and it was now Monday, April 18th. For eight weeks and four days they had been subjected to constant anxiety about their future, and either imprisonment, with its accompanying hardships, or the danger of losing their lives. And all for nothing. Here they were back again where they had started; they might just as well have given themselves up two months earlier. Into Gregory's mind flashed the awful question Was de Carvalho dead or alive? For if he was dead James would go to the guillotine.

  The Robertson’s were still standing nearby. Their surprise overcome, loyalty to comrades with whom they had shared great perils came uppermost in their minds. In atrocious French Willy cried belligerently

  `Hi, what's all this? Must be some mistake. Mr. Simonds and Johnny Olourna are as straight as any men I've ever met. They can't be criminals:

  `That's right,' Frank backed him up. `You're on to the wrong men for sure.'

  A white Sergeant had joined the coffee coloured gendarme. Now he said abruptly, `I cannot think there is a mistake. My man here saw the fugitives on the dockside under a strong light just before they made their getaway in a launch they stole. Anyhow, I'm taking his word for it. And their names are not Simonds and Olourna but Sallust and Omboloku. This is none of your business, so you had better keep out of it.'

  Gregory raised a smile for the brothers. `
He's right about our names. No use denying it. But we haven't done anything to be ashamed of. I'm only sorry that we should have to part like this when we'd been looking forward to celebrating with you.'

  `I'm sorry, too.' Willy shook his head. `Still, if there is anything we can do to help, let us know. We'll be staying at a little pub called the Maritime until we can collect the insurance on our schooner and buy another.'

  When he had thanked them and the brothers turned away, Gregory, acutely anxious to learn if de Carvalho was alive or dead, asked the Sergeant with what they were to be charged.

  The Sergeant, a surly man with a walrus moustache, replied, 'You'll learn that when we get to Headquarters.' Then, tapping his pistol holster significantly, as an indication that he would use his weapon should the prisoners attempt to escape, he told the gendarme to lead them away, and followed a few paces in the rear.

  As they walked along the wharf, Gregory was thinking bitterly of the plan that he and James had made soon after the Captain of the frigate had told them they were to be landed at Noumea. They had counted on the hue and cry for them having, after more than two months, long since died down. James was to have taken a room under his assumed name at some small inn and pretended illness so that he could remain there while Gregory used some of his dollars to arrange for them to be smuggled out on a ship leaving for Australia or New Zealand, from either of which they could fly back to Fiji. Even if it took him several days to find a ship he had thought that, provided they did not go into the better part of Noumea, the chances against their being recognised were a hundred to one; yet they had hardly stepped ashore when they had had the extraordinary ill fortune to come face to face with the one gendarme who could identify them.

  At Police Headquarters, despite Gregory's protestations, they were locked into separate cells, still with no charge being made against them; and the suspense of being left in ignorance was well nigh intolerable. Until he knew the worst they had to face, he was at a loss to formulate a line of policy. He could only take a little comfort from the thought that here in Noumea French law would ensure James a fair trial, and that he himself had the means to employ the best Counsel available to defend his friend.

  About himself he was not particularly worried. Although he might be censured for not having prevented James from throwing de Carvalho from the balcony and, as James' partner, be thought to have tacitly condoned the act, it could certainly not be proved that he had inspired the deed or played any active part in it.

  He would, of course, be charged with stealing the launch, but, as with so many hazards in life, money counted. Very rich men do not steal launches, although they may, in certain circumstances, borrow them without permission. His defence would be that he had done so, intending to return the launch from Fiji with handsome compensation to her owner for having been temporarily deprived of her. As she had been wrecked, he would, naturally, offer to pay her full value in addition; so he thought it as good as certain that he would be let off with a fine.

  James' chances depended, he felt, on the line the prosecution took. If it was known that they were partners and had conspired to catch de Carvalho' on his own to call him to account for cheating them, matters might go very badly. It would be argued that, having failed to get satisfaction from the Brazilian, with or without Gregory's approval, James had avenged himself by attacking de Carvalho with intent to murder him.

  On the other hand, should the truth be accepted that James was in love with de Carvalho's wife and, on seeing her husband strike her, had temporarily gone berserk then it could be hoped that the well known leniency of French courts in cases of le crime passionel would be exercised. But to prove that would require Olinda’s presence as a witness. And where was she? Whether de Carvalho was dead or alive, having no reason to believe that James would return to Noumea, it seemed very unlikely that she would have remained there for over two months. Even if she could be produced as a witness at the trial, James would be found guilty of murderous assault, so the least he could expect was a sentence of several years…

  At length, after nearly three hours of agonising suspense, the prisoners' cells were unlocked and they were conducted to the office of a Police Inspector. They then realised the reason for the delay in charging them. In the office, as well as the Sergeant and the gendarme, was the waiter from the Chateau Royal whom James had knocked down and whose trolley of food Gregory had looted. Evidently the police had been searching for him to support the gendarme's identification. Delighted at now having the chance to get his own back, the grinning waiter eagerly said his piece.

  The prisoners were then charged James with having assaulted de Carvalho with intent to murder, and with assaulting the waiter; Gregory with having been an accessory before the fact and having stolen food from the Hotel Chateau Royal; and both of them jointly with having stolen the launch of one Mathieu Serieu.

  With intent to murder was, for both James and Gregory, the salient point in the indictment. Evidently de Carvalho was not dead. With a gasp of relief James exclaimed, `Monsieur de Carvalho! He is alive! How seriously was he injured? Where is he now?'

  `He was in hospital for some time, then he rejoined his wife at the Chateau Royal and spent a month or more there, convalescing,' replied the Inspector. `Where he is now I have no idea. He and his wife left Noumea in their yacht about ten days ago.'

  That Olinda could not be called to give evidence was a pity, but that was far outweighed by the fact that de Carvalho had survived. With a smile Gregory asked the Inspector if they might have legal aid for their defence.

  `Certainly, Monsieur,' the Inspector nodded. `Do you know of a good avocat here in Noumea, or would you. like me to recommend one?'

  `I would prefer it,' said Gregory quietly, `if you would be good enough to provide me with pen and paper, so that I can write a line to General Ribaud and ask his advice. It so happens that he is a very old friend of mine.'

  Gregory had long since learned that, while name dropping without cause is regarded as a social gaffe, there are times when it can achieve most valuable results. Such was the present. Perceptibly, a new note of respect crept into the Inspector's voice. Of course he would oblige with writing materials, and if there were any other requests Monsieur Sallust cared to make they would receive due consideration. He even smiled and added that, the beds in the cells not being so comfortable as those in the Chateau Royal, extra pillows might be acceptable, and that if the prisoners cared to pay, no objection would be made to their sending out for wine to drink with their evening meal.

  Back in his cell, Gregory felt very much happier about the situation. De Carvalho, praise be to the gods, was still alive and now clearly in no danger of dying as a result of his injuries. But James was still facing a charge of attempted murder. The mention of Ribaud had nullified any possibility of police hostility; but meant no more than that, while in prison, he and James would enjoy certain small comforts that they might otherwise have been denied. The real nub of the matter was, could Ribaud in some way be manoeuvred into secretly influencing the court in James' favour?

  That a Governor General was in a position to do so the cynical Gregory had no doubt at all. There were, of course, limits to which any high official of a non totalitarian State could go; and in a democracy no upright judge would have acceded to a request to set free a man proved guilty of murder. But if he could be convinced that political expediency required that he should turn a blind eye to some lesser crime he might feel that it was his patriotic duty to do so.

  Gregory had no illusions that out of friendship for him Ribaud would agree to procure a verdict in James' favour. In some way pressure had to be brought to bear upon him? The question arose: how could that be done?

  For the moment he contented himself with writing a letter to Ribaud, simply saying that the General had perhaps been informed that he and the Ratu James Omboloku had returned to Noumea, been arrested and were now in prison; but during their absence they had obtained some information which might prove
of considerable value. He then requested a private interview with the General so that he might discuss the matter with him.

  The following day, late in the afternoon, Gregory was taken to the Residence. Ribaud received him in his office, told his escort to wait outside, invited Gregory to sit down, then offered him a cigarette and said:

  'Mon ami, I was much distressed to learn of the situation in which you find yourself.'

  Gregory smiled. 'Mon General, I thank you for your concern, for me. But I am not particularly worried about myself. I had intended to return Monsieur Serieu's launch to him with a handsome sum as compensation for having borrowed her. As she was wrecked that is now impossible, but I am in a position to offer him so large a sum for her loss that I feel confident he will agree not to prosecute.'

  Making a little grimace, Ribaud remarked, `I would that I were rich enough to think nothing of parting with a year's pay, for that is about what such a transaction would cost me.'

  Into Gregory's mind there flashed the thought that this might be an indication that his friend was open to the offer of a heavy bribe. Knowing that the French Government was by no means lavish in the payment of their officials, the idea had already occurred to hurl; but, believing Ribaud to be a man of integrity, he had dismissed it, on the grounds that if such an offer was taken as an insult, the results could prove disastrous. Meanwhile the General was continuing:

  `One can hardly suppose that Serieu will be such a fool as not to accept. But stealing a launch is only a minor matter and, no doubt, with a few hundred francs you can also pay off the waiter whom the Ratu assaulted. There still remains the more serious charge of being an accessory before the fact to attempted murder.'

  `True. But that I can refute by proving that I am not guilty.'

  'When de Carvalho was sufficiently recovered he made a statement to the effect that he had got the better of you and the Ratu in a business deal, and that the two of you surprised him in his room, with thee deliberate intention of revenging yourselves upon him.'