Eddie studied the cloudless sky. “No rough weather coming up. You can do all the resting you want on the way to Papeete. What's with you, Ray, don't you want to leave here? Hell, we have this stinking cargo and the sooner we leave, more chance we'll have of making it back before Ruita returns.”
“We've always sailed whenever we felt like it. Now everything is rush, rush.” Maybe I was steamed at Eddie because I felt he, and everybody else, was in my business, not letting me work things out with Ruita my own way. But what was my way—running out on her?
“Nobody is rushing,” Eddie said, “but we do have a cargo to get rid of before it spoils, and the X-ray of your lungs. Also, I could do with a girl.” Eddie ran a hand over his sweaty chest. “I need a bath. I'll look our keel over, too.”
I lay on the deck most of the afternoon, hearing the quiet of the Numaga lagoon, thinking this quiet would be my life from now on. Of course there was nothing to stop me—and Ruita—from sailing to Papeete or visiting some of the other islands when ever we felt like it. Only why couldn't I be happy without the cheap delights of Papeete? And in time Papeete would wear off; I'd want the States and that would be the end of that—Ruita would never stand for being “colored” with all the direct and indirect restrictions that meant. Even in Paris Ruita wouldn't be happy.
Nancy appeared in a gay mood at supper and after a big meal of baked rice and squid, spiced with shreds of pork, we sat around and listened to records. High tide was due at dawn—Eddie had determined this merely by holding his hand in the water for a few minutes. Nancy said goodbye before she turned in, told me a list of things she wanted in Papeete. When she asked why I didn't write them down, I said, “I'll remember them.”
“Wonderful to have such a memory,” she said, faint sarcasm in her voice.
Again there was that tense, unsaid something between us: she sensed that the reason I didn't write them down was because I didn't expect to return. No matter how many times I told myself I would return, my inner mind said I was a liar. I was running away, as usual.
Eddie and I were up long before dawn. I was working over the motor when we heard a canoe coming and Nancy stepped aboard. She said she couldn't sleep, decided to see us off. As Eddie was getting the sails ready, the old lady took me aside, asked me bluntly, “Ray, are you returning within the month to marry Louise?”
“Why ... uh ... I haven't asked her yet, of course, and...” The uneasiness was obvious in my voice.
Nancy fumbled in the pocket of her sweater, handed me a slip of paper. I held it in front of the lamp—it was a check made out to me, on a Boston bank, for fifty thousand dollars!
“What's this for?” I asked.
“Ray, I said once before that you are weak. I don't know what you are seeking in these islands. But if it is money, the bank in Papeete will honor this. If you came to make your 'fortune' and then leave, go now. Louise's heart won't be broken as much as it will be if you pull out in a year or two.”
“What the hell do you think I am?” I asked fiercely, feeling naked before her.
“I have, tried to find out but I am not certain what you are. Maybe you're a bit of a fool, maybe merely confused, not sure of yourself. But then I am biased: Louise is my daughter and only a fool would throw her over.”
“Look, this is something for Louise and myself—and only us—to settle. I'm goddamn sick and tired of your nose in my business.”
Nancy said softly, her voice weary, “I know I have been the scheming mother-in-law. I hate the role. But you have become part of my 'business,' for the only business I have left in this world is to be sure Louise is happily settled. My mind isn't getting any better and I have not much time.”
“Don't go dramatic on me. You're as healthy as a horse!”
“My body is healthy but not my crumbling brain. I shall not hang around to become a lingering idiot. One of these days I shall swim out to sea. Twice in my life I have nearly drowned, have learned that water is a painless suicide. I tell you all this because if you are somewhat of a fool, you are not a scoundrel. You have money, if that is what you have been searching for. The decision is up to you.”
“This is my decision!” I snapped, tore the check up and threw the pieces over the side.
She shrugged, studied my face for a long moment then said sadly, “No, I do not think you have reached a decision. I hope with all my heart this isn't goodbye, Ray.” She touched my hand, waved at Eddie, and stepped back into her canoe.
I got the motor running, Eddie pulled up anchor and we headed toward the reef. I watched Nancy standing in the canoe, waving at us, a lonely figure against the breaking, bleak dawn.
As we crossed the reef, ran up the sails, and cut off the engine I felt damn good I'd been strong enough to tear up the check in her face. But there was another thought haunting me, one which made me feel ashamed. Later, when Eddie asked what had happened between myself and Nancy, I told him, and he had the same thought, minus any shame.
He asked casually, “You think the check was good?”
Chapter IX
I moved deeper into the shade of the cabin, watching the aeoei-shaded Papeete waterfront, hearing the sharp horns of the bicycles and frantic taxis on the Quai du Commerce. I was trying to sleep off a hangover. Eddie was stretched out near me, merely trying to sleep. I had been falling down drunk the night before; in fact I had been on a bender for several weeks.
It was all very dramatic and like a bad movie. Four days ago had been exactly a month since we'd left Numaga and Ruita had probably long since arrived there. I was still in Papeete, trying to find my future in a bottle.
We had sighted Point Venus on the third day out from Numaga, a stiff breeze pushing us all the way. Olin had taken our cargo, a doctor said my lungs were okay, and within two days after we landed there wasn't a single thing holding me in Papeete—except myself. And whenever I was sober enough to think, I held a number of all-night conversations with me as I lay atop the cabin, the cool night hupi drying off the rum sweating out of my pores.
They weren't very bright conversations. Sometimes I felt downright sorry for myself, giving up Ruita and our love, making a sacrifice for her happiness. I told myself I would be very honest—I was afraid of the responsibilities of another marriage, I didn't want to give up the carefree life of being a starving trader. Or I came up with a new idea: somehow I would get a bigger boat and Ruita and I would sail around the islands, trading. As I was chewing this one over, the hupi died down and the stench from our hold damn near made me give up.
Days and weeks went by with me either drunk—on credit while it lasted—or arguing with myself, and never winning an argument. Eddie wisely kept out of things. My “official” excuse was we were waiting for a cargo, which didn't make any sense: who would be shipping a cargo to an almost deserted island like Numaga?
Once, when we first ran out of francs and credit, Eddie came apart with, “You bastard, acting like all the other lousy popaas! I bet you've knocked her up already and are scared of—”