The Island Where Time Stands Still

by Dennis Wheatley

  Stepping over to the gramophone, he quickly put on the record of one of her favourite tunes which fortunately lay handy, switched the machine on and, taking hold of her, swung her into a dance.

  She did not resist, but her steps were automatic and lifeless. Gazing up at him with tears in her eyes, she murmured, ‘How could I have done that?’

  ‘You did it for my sake,’ he told her, ‘although I realise now that I never ought to have let you. Don’t take what he said too badly. He knows as well as I do that at heart you are a sweet and gentle person, and would never have acted in that way of your own accord. When he has had time to think things over he’ll be certain to decide that I have been nagging at you all through the voyage to get rid of him. And, anyhow, it seems you’ve proved your point.’

  His rather specious argument appeared to afford her some consolation, as the tears ceased to well into her eyes, and after a moment she said, ‘I shan’t feel so badly at having lost face with him if I can regard it as the price of protecting you from Foo. You’ll get rid of him now, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, making an effort to keep the reluctance out of his voice. He knew that he could not possibly go back on his promise, nor, since she had carried out her part of their bargain so fully, had he any excuse for asking her to release him from it. She had made it unmistakably clear that her reason for wanting Wu-ming out of the way was so that she could be alone with him, and it struck him now that while Wu-ming had stigmatised her manners he had made no comment at all on the blatant implication of her outburst. Gregory wondered if his reticence had been due to a remarkably high degree of self-discipline, or if he had temporarily been so stunned by the violence of his dismissal that the moral aspect of the matter would not dawn upon him till later.

  As the music stopped A-lu-te said, ‘I don’t think I want to dance any more.’ But Gregory had no intention of allowing her to go to her cabin yet awhile, as he felt that if he could first cheer her up a little she would be much less likely to give way to a fit of remorse when she got there. Giving her a wicked little smile, he asked:

  ‘Isn’t it rather a pity to throw away an opportunity like this? It is a sure thing that Wu-ming won’t go and tell anybody how we packed him off; not for the time being, anyhow. And as he has always spent the evenings with us, Su-sen and that dirty spy, P’ei, will be in bed by now; so we’ve a perfectly good excuse for not summoning one of them to act as chaperon. For once we might dance like a couple who are really enjoying themselves.’

  A-lu-te knew what he meant. In the San Francisco hotels she had seen many couples tightly embraced moving as one body with cheek pressed to cheek, and had envied them their freedom to abandon themselves to the magic of the music in a way that was denied to her by the strictness of Chinese convention. The temptation was too much for her and she nodded.

  Having changed the record, he took her firmly in his arms and laid his cheek against her smooth black hair. For the first time he could feel her heart beat, and for a few moments it raced a little at this unaccustomed contact, then it steadied and she gave herself up to the delight of the rhythm.

  For over half an hour they danced together, speaking little, but with a smoothness and enjoyment that they had never known before. Gregory was fairly satisfied that she had now got over the worst of her emotional upset, but he wanted if possible, to send her off to bed in a really happy frame of mind. Ever since she had virtually adopted him, in the curiously mixed capacity of pseudo-slave-teacher-friend, he had deliberately refrained from paying her any compliments on her physical attractions, in order to avoid giving her any grounds for mistakingly supposing that he was falling in love with her. But now, knowing how much women appreciate such things, he thought he might pay her one without her putting any wrong construction on it. As the music stopped again, he said:

  ‘You know, your hair feels as smooth as satin, and it smells heavenly.’

  They still had their arms about one another, and turning her face up to his she replied with a smiled, ‘That is just the sort of nice thing one might have expected a Chinese to say. We attach so much more importance to a person’s smell than you do in the West.’ Her smile became mischievous as she added, ‘Put your nose next to mine, close your eyes and take a long deep breath through your nostrils.’

  Returning her smile, he obeyed her, and found the sweet subtle odour that he drew in positively intoxicating. As he opened his eyes hers were laughing at him, and she said softly:

  ‘There! That was a Chinese kiss.’

  On an impulse begotten by that heady fragrance, he murmured, ‘It was a new and lovely experience for me; but I still think our European kiss the more satisfying.’

  Her languorous eyes went misty, and she offered him her half-parted lips. Gently he placed his mouth on hers then, gradually increasing the pressure, crushed her slender body to his own.

  As he released her she gave a long happy sigh, and whispered, ‘That was a new experience for me. Perhaps there are still a lot of things that we can teach one another.’ Then, taking his hand, she turned to draw him down beside her on the nearby divan.

  At that instant the silence was shattered by the sound of running feet. The noise was followed by a shout. Thrusting A-lu-te behind him, Gregory swung round. Wu-ming, his face distorted by fury, was charging at him from the entrance to the lounge. Clutched with both hands above his head, he wielded one of the ship’s big fire-fighting axes. For a moment it seemed that nothing could stop him from cleaving Gregory’s skull from crown to chin.

  There were still eight or ten feet between them; but Gregory could not jump back, or step aside. To have done so would have exposed A-lu-te. The push he had given her had sent her sprawling on the divan behind him. If he moved now the gleaming axe would come slicing down to inflict a dreadful wound on one of her knees or thighs. Instantly, he saw that his only chance lay in rushing in. By butting the Chinaman in the stomach he might halt him in mid career and send him over backwards.

  With Gregory, in such a situation, to think was to act. Like a tennis player about to serve, he rose on the balls of his feet. For a second he remained poised, then, appearing to bow from the waist until his head was down to chest level, he suddenly launched himself forward. In an attempt to evade him, Wu-ming swerved while still coming on at full speed. That saved him from being rammed right on the solar plexus, but the top of Gregory’s head caught him low down over his left ribs. The axe was already half way through an arc now ending at the base of Gregory’s spine. Only the impact of head on ribs prevented the stroke going home. Its violence brought Wu-ming up short. His body twisted, causing the axe to turn sideways in mid-course. The weight of its steel head tore its wooden haft from his grasp. Staggering back, he let out a scream of rage as it hit the deck, slithered across it and, with a metallic clang, came to rest in the scuppers.

  Gregory too had been brought up short. Raising his head, he drew back his clenched fist and slammed it into Wu-ming’s stomach. With a loud grunt the Chinaman doubled up, then fell to his kness.

  As he did so Foo came running round the corner of the screen. Shouting abuse he was about to fling himself on Wu-ming, but with a swift gesture Gregory checked him. During the past few awful seconds any help would have been welcome, but now he was completely master of the situation. Wu-ming was attempting to stagger to his feet; Gregory gave him time only to raise his head shoulder high, then hit him a smashing blow under the ear. He reeled over and hit the edge of a small table with his head. Sliding to the deck he lay there moaning.

  Foo began to pant out an explanation of his presence. ‘I was waiting about to see you safely to your cabin, Sir,’ he gasped. ‘Ten minutes or more ago I spotted him peering through the lacing between the screens. I knew from the music you must be dancing in here, but I didn’t feel that I had the right to interfere with him watching you. I had to stay some way off, too, otherwise he would have guessed that I was keeping an eye on him. But when I saw him snatch the axe from the rack I
came after him at top speed.’

  ‘Thanks, Foo,’ Gregory said, taking the will for the deed. ‘Had things gone only a little differently you might have arrived in the nick of time to save me.’

  With a happy grin, Foo asked, ‘Shall I fetch one of the officers, Sir, to have him put in the clink?’

  ‘No.’ Gregory cast a glance at the still moaning Wu-ming. ‘I mean to fix him myself. When I’ve done with him he won’t give any more trouble. You needn’t bother to wait up any longer, Foo; and you can leave us now.’

  As soon as Foo had disappeared, Gregory seized Wu-ming by the arm, pulled him to his feet, and pushed him into one of the bamboo arm-chairs.

  ‘Now!’ he said, stepping back a couple of paces. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’

  For a moment Wu-ming did not reply, then he struggled up from the chair, crossed his shaking hands over his middle, bowed and said in a hoarse voice. ‘I have no excuse. None; except that something seemed to snap in my brain. I was watching you through the screens. I saw you … saw you kiss the lady A-lu-te. I endeavoured to restrain myself. For what seemed a long time I fought down a boiling of the blood within me. Perhaps it was for only a few minutes but it seemed as if my agony lasted for an hour. I forced myself to turn away. Then my eye lit upon the axe. My mind became a turmoil. I … I no longer knew what I was doing.’

  ‘Well, well! Just think of that now.’ Gregory’s voice held a terrible biting sarcasm. ‘And I suppose “something snapped in your brain”, “the blood boiled within you”, and “you no longer knew what you were doing”, when you slipped the poison into my cocktail last night?’

  For the second time that evening an expression of near astonishment appeared on Wu-ming’s face, and he stammered, ‘I … your cocktail! No, no. I know nothing of that.’

  ‘You lying, murdering swine,’ Gregory snarled. Then, with his clenched fist, he hit him a smashing blow right in the centre of his face.

  Wu-ming’s widely-spaced eyes opened to their fullest extent, as the bone of his pudgy nose crunched under the blow. With a howl of pain he fell back into the chair. The bamboos had scarcely creaked under the impact of his body before Gregory had seized him by the neck of his blouse, pulled him up, and hit him again.

  Four times in quick succession Gregory lugged him to his feet then slammed him back striking each time with savage, remorseless deliberation. His own knuckles were seeping blood from the force of his blows, but the Chinaman’s face was streaming with it. Half his front teeth were loose, one of his eyes was bunged up and his jaw was broken. Between each blow he had given a yell for help, but his shouts were growing weaker when, from along the deck, the sound of running footsteps told that his cries had attracted attention.

  Realising that he must now finish matters quickly, Gregory hauled him to his feet again but, instead of striking him, grabbed his right wrist, spun him round and twisted his arm up behind him. ‘Perhaps.’ he said, ‘this will teach you not to have banana crates dropped on people’s heads.’ Then, exerting all his strength, he wrenched the arm upwards. Wu-ming let out a scream of agony, then there came the clear sharp sound of the bone snapping. With a final push Gregory sent the limp tortured body reeling back into the chair.

  As he turned away he saw that A-lu-te was still sitting on the divan, but she had covered her face with her hands, and from between them there came a low moaning. Stooping towards her he said:

  ‘I must apologise for giving such an exhibition of brutality in front of you. But I don’t want to die just yet, and this was my one chance of putting my would-be murderer out of action.’

  At that moment several people came pounding round the corner of the screen. Ah-moi was leading, closely followed by the officer of the watch and two sailors.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ bellowed the hefty Captain.

  Gregory pointed first to the shuddering, groaning figure in the chair, then to the fireman’s axe lying in the scuppers.

  ‘He went off his head and tried to kill me. Apparently he took exception to my dancing with the lady A-lu-te; though why he should have done God alone knows, as we’ve danced together most nights since we first went ashore in San Francisco.’

  The Captain bent over Wu-ming, and asked, ‘Is what he said true?’

  Still gasping with pain Wu-ming heaved himself up a little, and whispered, ‘I … I attacked him, yes; but I did so to protect the lady A-lu-te’s virtue.’

  Taking a pace forward, Gregory snapped, ‘Repeat that lie and I will throw you overboard.’

  Ah-moi laid a large restraining hand on his shoulder and, turning to A-lu-te, said, ‘Please give me your version of this most distressing affair.’

  She had already taken her hands from her face. Large tears were running down her cheeks, but she replied in a perfectly controlled voice: ‘It is true that Mr. Wu-ming Loo attacked Mr. Sallust with the axe, and it is quite untrue that Mr. Sallust was attempting to seduce me.’

  The Captain made a sign to his officer. ‘Have Mr. Wu-ming Loo put to bed, and send the doctor to him.’ Then, having given a not unfriendly nod to Gregory, he bowed to A-lu-te and said in a voice that brooked no denial, ‘The strain of witnessing this scene of violence must have quite exhausted you. Permit me to see you to your cabin.’

  For the time being that was the end of the matter, and a few minutes later, although it was only just half-past ten, Gregory was getting ready to turn in. As he settled himself in bed, and relived his third narrow escape from death within three weeks, he thought, not for the first time, that it was better to be born lucky than rich. To have put Wu-ming out of the game was a considerable relief; but he was a little worried about the effect that this brutal treatment of his enemy might have had on the delicate susceptibilities of A-lu-te, and the possibility that a formal inquiry would be held, at which Wu-ming would insist, in his own defence, that he had actually caught her ‘slave’ in the act of kissing her.

  It transpired that he need not have concerned himself on either count. Next morning A-lu-te greeted him as usual with a smile, and made no mention whatever of the previous evening’s events. Apparently, with the practical philosophy of the Chinese, she had accepted the outcome of their plot as one of those passionate eruptions which occasionally disturb the river of life without preventing its flowing on. Captain Ah-moi’s attitude was somewhat similar. Having sent for Gregory he said he regarded Wu-ming’s outbreak as most regrettable, but that fortunately it had no ill results except to himself; and that, since Gregory had already administered rough justice to his attacker, he hoped that he would spare all concerned further embarrassment by leaving matters as they stood.

  Bearing in mind the facts that Ah-moi knew nothing whatever about the poisoned cocktail or the affair of the banana crates, but that he could not have failed to observe Wu-ming’s morbid passion for A-lu-te, so had good grounds for believing him to have been the victim of a temporary aberration, the line the Captain took could not be considered as an attempt to evade his responsibilities. The suggestion that sleeping dogs should be allowed to lie could not have suited Gregory better, and by readily falling in with it he earned both Ah-moi’s esteem for not bearing malice and his gratitude for being freed from having to give further time to the affair, as other matters of major importance were now calling for his attention.

  It was their sixteenth day out of San Francisco; so the yacht was now about to cross the major shipping lane that ran down from the great Japanese ports of Yokohama and Nagasaki to Singapore, and thence to Europe. While crossing the great wastes of the Pacific they had sighted less than half-a-dozen ships; but now they might expect to encounter several during the course of a single day and, although they were still well outside any of the war zones, Captain Ah-moi evidently thought the time had come to take precautions against unwelcome questioning.

  The first of these struck Gregory as a great piece of impudence, but he was in no situation to prevent it. As soon as their interview was over, Ah-moi asked him t
o come aft and there, with his own hands, he ran up the White Ensign. Turning to Gregory with a beaming face, he said:

  ‘There! Previously when sailing in dangerous waters I have always flown the Stars and Stripes, but as I happened to have this in my collection of flags I thought it would be a nice compliment to you. It should prove just as effective and I am proud to sail under it, for your British sailors are the finest in the world.’

  ‘I … er, appreciate the honour,’ Gregory replied with a somewhat unhappy smile. ‘But isn’t it a bit risky? I mean, you might get into serious trouble if we happen to run into a British warship.’

  ‘That is true, but very unlikely so far from both Hong Kong and Korea as we shall be during the next few days. And the risk is well worth running. You see, apart from her superstructure, this ship still has the lines of a destroyer, and the range of deck cabins might have been added to convert her into a survey or supply ship; so in the eyes of all but experts she will pass as an auxiliary of the Royal Navy. In consequence, should I refuse to disclose our business or destination in reply to signals, very few Captains would dare to hold us up.’

  As this was just the sort of trick that, in similar circumstances, Gregory might himself have played, his disapproval gave place to a sneaking admiration; and, as the day progressed, he had ample opportunity further to admire the capabilities that Ah-moi displayed for blockade running. He ignored junks and other sailing vessels, but each time a smudge of smoke appeared on the horizon he promptly altered course. Once, when two steamers were sighted approaching one another, so that they would pass somewhere ahead of the yacht, he even turned her right round and ran back on his track for half an hour.

  These numerous changes of course naturally slowed down the yacht’s progress westwards, but by late afternoon they were approaching a group of tiny islets called the Tokaras about a hundred and thirty miles south of the southernmost tip of Japan. Just before sundown they made a landfall and altered course slightly to pass between two of them.