by Edna Dawes
When he saw that Nancy was quite an accomplished sub-aqua swimmer he pointed downwards and she followed him to the sandy sea-bed to inspect the beautiful and sometimes monstrous sea-shells.
Soon, Ben indicated that they should go up, but she was unwilling to leave. He was definite, though, so she dropped her feet and allowed her body to be borne upward towards the boat. After the silent world she had just left, her ears were filled with a dreadful roaring sound the minute she broke surface.
Ben’s: “Well, I’ll be a wallaby’s uncle!” made her turn round, still clinging to the boat.
A seaplane was moving shorewards on its floats. Next minute, the pilot cut his engines and the noise gradually died away, to leave the machine rolling gently on the swell, a couple of hundred yards away from them.
Ben heaved himself into the boat, then hauled Nancy in.
“What is it doing here?” she asked him as she slid the straps of her breathing set from her shoulders.
“Just another of those darn funny things which seem to happen, these days,” was his off hand reply. He was too busy with his own thoughts to pay her much attention, and he whistled through his teeth when he saw a boat set off from the jetty and head for the seaplane.
Nancy watched as Rod took the small boat alongside the aircraft. A man appeared in the hatchway—she could see his fair hair shining in the sunlight—then he threw a canvas grip into the boat before jumping in himself. A wave to the pilot, and the small craft was turning back to the cove.
Ben set his boat in a circle to race Rod back to the jetty. Before they arrived there, the seaplane had begun taxiing out to sea, preparatory to its take-off, and was already airborne when Ben and his boss reached the landing-stage simultaneously.
Rod tied up while his passenger stepped on to the boards, nearly missing his footing through too great an interest in the female occupant of the other boat! He walked two steps and offered her his hand.
“Allow me, Mrs. Maitland,” he said with a smile, and pulled her up beside him.
Here was another six-footer who might give Rod a good contest in a trial of strength! His scrutiny made Nancy acutely conscious of her scarcity of clothes, but she brazened it out well enough.
“Thank you. Mr.—”
“David Russell.”
“Thank you, Mr. Russell, but I am not Mrs. Maitland, as it happens. My name is Nancy Martin—Miss!’
His youthful blue eyes warmed. “How nice! They didn’t tell me about you.”
Nancy caught Rod’s look of thunder and said irrepressibly: “Have a shell—I have been diving for them,” and pressed a large cowrie into his hand. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have a thousand things to do.” She grabbed the cotton beach-coat she had left on the jetty and started to walk away.
The voices of the men carried to her as she walked to the beach, Rod’s deep and husky, Ben’s with that atrocious accent, and David’s friendly and cultured.
“Ben,” said Rod, “David is our replacement photographer.”
“Ah, pleased ter meet you. You’ll never be more appreciated than here.”
“So I believe.”
“Had a lot of experience, have you?”
“A fair amount. This looks a cosy set-up. Nice spot you picked!”
“Say that again in two weeks’ time.” That was Ben again. “Quite a surprise, you arriving on that plane.”
“I knew he was coming.” Rod remarked. “The message came over the radio this morning. I couldn’t tell you—you appeared to be occupied with plans of your own. I’ll have a word with you on that subject later on.”
“Yeah, well I’ve got a heavy day ahead. May not be able to fit it in.”
Nancy made a face at that. Surely Rod was not going to bully Ben over their trip out this morning! She worried about it all through lunch. The last thing she wanted was to get Ben and Rod at each other’s throats; and now that this new photographer had turned up, her vague idea of adopting Sheila Maitland’s suggestion of learning to be useful with an underwater camera seemed futile.
In the afternoon, when Meg was lying down, Nancy crossed the compound with the intention of having another swim, but decided on the spur of the moment to slip into Rod’s office to explain why she had taken up Ben’s time that morning and apologize. Her bare feet padded up the steps and along the veranda, but the sound of voices pulled her up.
“I can’t allow that,” Rod was saying.
“Look, Dr. McNaughton, I know you are officially in charge of this place, but now I am here I’m afraid you’ll have to do things my way. On the surface, the routine will continue as before, but you will have to bow to my decisions from now on.”
Nancy walked slowly backwards and down the steps again, lost in thought. That was a strange thing for a newly arrived photographer to say to the head of a research team!
*
David Russell quickly settled into the small community. His easy-going personality and somewhat boyish humour made everyone like him.
Nancy watched for any sign of the man who had told Rod he intended to overrule his authority. He was clever. Not once did he betray to the others that he had some sort of hold over the senior scientist, but Rod began to look strained and Nancy often saw his light burning well into the night.
Whether or not he and Ben had had words over her diving lessons, these continued whenever Ben had the time, and she progressed in giant strides. Nancy had intelligence in abundance and her considerable skill with a camera had only to be adapted to the slightly different underwater variety. Her one difficulty was to put the two skills together, and that meant plenty of practice.
After one such session Ben said: “You’re a natural for this work. Another few lessons, and Rod would be better off taking you out instead of David.”
She jumped on that remark. “What’s wrong with David?”
“Nothing. He’s a likeable friendly bloke.” He looked at her and hesitated, then seemed to make up his mind. “But, I’d say the only photography he’s ever done is instant snapshots.”
“Ben, I’ve been going to tell you this several times, and after what you have just said I think you should know.” They were sitting side by side on the jetty, drinking a cup of the strong tea Ben brewed in the boathouse, and the sun burnt down on to their bare limbs. Nancy looked out across the cove and reflected that such a peaceful spot should be innocent of all this intrigue and suspicion.
There was regret in her voice as she related the snatch of conversation she had overheard from Rod’s office.
“Look, girl, I’ve known Rod for years—we’re real mates—but he ain’t said a word to me about this. It suggests some jiggery-pokery which he is involved in, and that don’t make sense. Rod is as straight as they come. I’d put my last dollar on it!”
“Which bears out the assumption that David is putting pressure on him in some way.”
“Now, hang on a minute! Just because he’s a hopeless photographer it don’t mean he’s a blackmailer—and the couple of sentences you heard might sound altogether different in context. I see the two of them every day and they seem all right to me. Look, if it’ll make you happier, I’ll chat to young David and find out a bit about his background.”
Nancy was not satisfied. The understanding which had developed between the amiable Australian and herself told her that Ben was hiding his concern. She wondered about tackling the new arrival herself, and it looked as if an opportunity might present itself when she heard the following day that a party was in the offing. Normally, she saw little of David, because he lived in the single men’s quarters and spent most of the day working with Rod.
The party was to celebrate the fact that Charlie had become the father of a bouncing baby boy. The news came over the radio soon after breakfast. Since it was obvious that the men were going to ‘wet the baby’s head’ in no uncertain manner at lunch-time, Rod judiciously decided to declare an afternoon off for everyone.
Sheila joined Nancy and Meg to help prepare r
efreshments for the party, which was to be held in the Greens’ bungalow. It was the first chance Nancy had had to chat to her blonde neighbour since the previous party, and she went out of her way to draw the girl out.
“When I first met you,” she began, “I wondered how you could possibly shut yourself away on this island amongst seaweed, fish and rock samples, but I have been getting to see some of the beauty beneath the surface and now I know the answer. I am becoming more and more fascinated.”
Sheila smiled. “It crept up on me like that. I was still undecided what to do when I went to University, but Jim started taking me diving at week-ends and made up my mind for me.”
“You dive, too? I do admire you.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t do much now, I was never a patch on Jim.”
There seemed no restraint on Sheila’s part to talking about her husband, so Nancy asked: “Had you been married long?”
“Eight years. It was a teenage marriage. He always said he wanted to be young with his children.”
Nancy felt awkward after that, and turned the conversation to Charlie and his new son.
. . . The men arrived for the party in groups, having slept, off the results of the lunch-time toasts, and Charlie immediately recited the length, weight, colouring and time of birth of Master Barnes, although they had heard all the details before.
David Russell said: “Wow!” when Nancy, in a beautifully cut cocktail dress, handed him a drink; but when she turned to talk to him, after serving everyone else, she saw that he was talking in a corner with Sheila Maitland and looked set to stay there. Nancy sighed. Just what was the fatal magic the Australian girl possessed?
“He’s married,” said a voice at her elbow.
She looked up at Rod. “Did you think I had designs on him?”
“He is much more your type than any of us, I should have thought, and your little sigh of envy didn’t escape me.”
“I was feeling a bit out of things—a minnow in a school of whales. I am the only person here who is a complete misfit.”
“You won’t be for long. Ben tells me you have become a first-rate subaqua photographer.”
She flushed. “You don’t condemn me for taking up Ben’s time?”
“I don’t mind any of my staff devoting their time to you for useful purposes—and Ben is safe enough.”
“Safe?”
“From you!” His eyes darkened. “Look, I’m sorry if I was a little blunt the other evening, but coming on top of your quick criticism of this station, I found the ‘come-on’ attitude you adopted a trifle worrying.”
“Are you speaking for yourself or the others?”
He smiled at her shrewish tone. “I’m more susceptible than any of them. I haven’t a wife to bother my conscience.” His smile lessened the signs of strain around his mouth and lit his grey-green eyes. The slight frown gradually disappeared as they discussed her progress with an underwater camera. He reiterated Ben’s warning never to go beyond the shelf, and never to dive alone.
“You do,” she said.
“What do you mean?” He looked startled.
“The day you found Jim Maitland’s camera.”
“Oh—” he cast around for an excuse—“Alec had been ill. It was a case of necessity.”
“Wasn’t it a coincidence?” she continued lightly. “The chances of coming across the camera three months later must be very small. It could have drifted anywhere in the Pacific.”
The strain was back in his face again and his lips had tightened. “What do you know about Jim Maitland’s camera?”
“I was there when you arrived back with it. Don’t you remember? Ben recognized it at once and remarked on how astounding the discovery was. Didn’t he discuss it with you at the time?”
“No—he was busily engaged with you.”
She smiled. “I am very fond of Ben. I gather you two have been friends for years.”
“That’s right.” He sat on the corner of the table, glad of the change of subject she had made. “If Ben takes to someone, he proves a very loyal friend.”
“Does that apply to you?”
He nodded. “He came out here with me when I asked.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Oh?”
She watched his face carefully. “Are you a loyal friend?”
He coloured slightly. “Is that remark meant to antagonize me?”
“No. I don’t like quarrelling with people, despite my hot temper. I simply meant that Ben is a bit worried about you lately. He feels you have something on your mind which you are refusing to discuss with him.”
“That’s nonsense!” He shifted his perch and took a gulp of his beer.
“If you don’t want to discuss it with him, there’s always me. I’m an impartial listener—and I’ll be leaving in three weeks.”
His grin brought a return to normal. “If I ever come to you, it won’t be to discuss my worries, believe me!”
“Now you are trying to antagonize me.”
“No, no, just paying you a compliment.”
Nancy took a sip from her glass and glanced across at the two fair heads in the corner. “How are you getting on with David? Is he good?”
“Very. I was lucky to get him. He is just the type for a place like this—fits in easily and get’s nobody’s back up.”
“No pretentiousness, is that what you mean? I was trying to gather enough courage to ask you if I could go as your photographer one day, instead of David. If Ben says I’m good, I must be.”
His reaction surprised her. She expected veiled excuses and a quick refusal, but he jumped at her offer. “Sure you can!” There was even an element of relief in his agreement. “Come tomorrow afternoon, if you like.”
Nancy drifted away, hoping to have the chat with David that she had promised herself; but when she glanced round the room he was nowhere to be seen and he did not return. It was almost as if he had guessed what she had in mind.
Chapter Three
Dawn was merely a promise in the east when Nancy threw back the netting covering her bed and dressed quickly. Outside on the beach, she stamped in frustration in the damp sand and left giant footprints behind her. With every thrust of her foot she muttered: “Fool! FOOL!”
The distraction of her diving lessons had not prevented her from becoming ‘stuck on’ Rod, as Ben put it, and the knowledge disturbed her. Not only was the whole thing impossible, because of the miles she would have to put between them in three weeks’ time, but it seemed highly likely that the man was caught up in something she would be wiser to steer clear of. Unfortunately, one of the symptoms of her growing fondness for Rod was the desire to discover what hold David Russell had over him, and to break it—with Ben’s help, if necessary!
Her walk took her to the other end of the cove, and when she spotted a rough path running into the jungle, she followed it. Contrary to her expectation, it was not steamy and impenetrable, with strangling creepers, and snakes and leeches at every turn. The ground was comparatively bare, like the woods near her home, but the trees towered above her and exuded a strange, damp smell which reminded her of hothouses after the plants have been watered. Unlike England, where birds herald the dawn with a myriad trills and warbles, the start of a new day on Wonara was met with a listening hush. The only noise was made by Nancy’s feet brushing against the occasional fern, and the far-away crash of surf.
The quiet, dim green of the jungle lulled the girl, making her forget her troubled mood as she wandered on, enraptured by a riot of scarlet flowers on a tree ahead.
The sound of distant voices broke the enchantment, but it was several seconds before Nancy realized they were coming from the left. She forsook the path to cross ferns and thicker undergrowth until she reached a point where the ground began to drop away towards the sea.
Almost directly in line with where she was standing was the source of the sounds she had heard. Several hundred feet in from where the sea darkened as the
ground fell away, there was a small motor-powered dinghy anchored, and two figures—one in the boat and one still in the water—were calling to each other across the distance.
As she watched, the one in the sea swam towards the boat—she could see the movement of his limbs through the water with absolute clarity—and heaved himself in. It did not surprise her when he pushed back the hood of his wetsuit to reveal dark, tumbled hair. Since the blond head of the man in the boat had identified him as David Russell, the other man could only be Rod.
He started up the outboard engine, but instead of heading round the point to their cove, he brought the boat in towards the shore, just below the spot where Nancy stood. Within a few minutes they were out of sight beneath the overhang of tree-tops, but the sudden cessation of noise told the girl that they had beached.
The uneasy feeling that she had stumbled on to a clue to the mystery surrounding Rod and David made Nancy wish she had never taken the path.
Next minute, she heard movements in the undergrowth and muted voices approaching up the hill. With fast-beating heart she ran to the cover of an extra large strangler fig tree with its grasping roots spreading in every direction, and she watched for the men’s approach.
They were breathing heavily and their shirts were sticking to their backs from the effort of climbing the considerable slope with all their gear. Nancy had never spied on anyone before, but the tail-end of their conversation ensured that she remained hidden.
“You can have a rest today,” said Rod. “I promised Nancy she could come, instead.”
“Thank heaven for that!” was the heartfelt reply. “Working underwater by night and day isn’t my idea of fun. It’s all right for you professionals, but this job will just about finish my enthusiasm for the sport. All the same, I wish that girl wasn’t here. She has too much time to herself. People like that notice things—and that’s when it starts to get dangerous.”
“Had I known about all this earlier, I wouldn’t have let her come; but don’t worry, I’ll keep her mind on other things,” said Rod roughly. “She won’t bother us.”
