“Your place seems to have weathered the occupation,” I said.
“I’m lucky the Japs prefer tea,” he said with a laugh. “They had a lookout post up here for a while, but didn’t cause too much damage. Shot a half dozen natives for no reason I can figure, then lit out when your army landed. It’s mainly a case of beating back the bush after a couple years of neglect. Now that you’ve had your lesson, go ahead and ask your questions.”
“Did you know Daniel Tamana?” I said, feeling the jolt of caffeine kick in.
“Sure I know him,” Coburn started, then caught himself. “You put that in the past tense. Has Daniel been killed? Is he one of the three?”
“The first of the three,” Kaz said. “Next was Sam Chang.”
“Christ,” Coburn said. “Sam was a fine man. Forward-thinking. Don’t tell me those damn fool sisters of his are mixed up in this?”
“No,” I said, glancing at Kaz. “They are mystified as well. The third victim was a woman, Deanna Pendleton.”
“Not the lass from the Methodist mission? Dear God, what’s going on? When and where did all this happen?” Coburn stood, pacing on the verandah, trying to take in the terrible news.
“On Tulagi, very recently,” I said. “We were wondering what you could tell us about Daniel. What kind of man he was, and if he had trouble with anyone.”
“Hardly a man back then,” Coburn said. “He came here to work when he was a young lad. Smart, spoke good English. I wasn’t surprised when he moved on. If I’d had a better job to give him, I would have.”
“Did he have trouble with anyone?”
“No, not that I recall. Kept to himself a lot. Always reading, trying to improve himself. Which meant that he didn’t make friends well. The other native boys likely thought him stuck-up. Neither fish nor fowl, as they say.”
“But no arguments or serious disagreements?”
“No,” Coburn said, shaking his head. “A bit of resentment maybe, but nothing more.”
“Would you say he was honest?” I asked, wondering if there might be some criminal connection between Daniel and John Kari.
“Yes, I’d peg him as an honest chap. No reason not to,” Coburn said as he refilled our cups from an enamel pot. “Brave, too, although you probably know of his service.”
“Did you ever run across another native, John Kari?” Kaz asked. “He is a bit like Daniel. Well-educated, suited to European ways.”
“Kari, you say?” Coburn said, rubbing his beard. “No, doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Have you been on Pavau much?” I asked, trying to jog his memory.
“Now and then,” Coburn said, raising his eyebrows and giving a slight shrug, inviting me to explain the question.
“That’s where Daniel ended up. This John Kari worked there as well, for Lever,” I said. It might have been the jolt from the strong coffee, but everything began to converge on the island of Pavau, like the phosphorescent wake of a PT boat. “Sam Chang was looking to expand his operations there as well.”
“Right, right,” Coburn said, snapping his fingers. “Young fellow, worked down at the harbor, keeping accounts for Lever or something.”
“You know a lot of people,” I said. “You must get around the islands a fair bit.”
“Used to,” he said. “Before the war I had my own little cutter, sailed between here, Bougainville, and all points in between. We islanders pay a lot of social calls, helps to ease the monotony. A native can be a good friend, but there’s nothing like the sound of your own language spoken by one of your own.” He gazed out to the sea, shaking his head slowly, perhaps at the memories of friends lost. He sat again, silent.
“You were almost captured on Bougainville,” I said, hoping to shake him out of his reverie.
“Nearly ran out of luck that time,” Coburn said, taking a drink and smacking his lips. “I’ve got another plantation up there, and I wanted to get my people out when it looked like the Japs were about to descend. Some of my workers are from Bougainville, but the rest are all from Malaita, and I’d planned on arranging transport for them.”
“Daniel was from Malaita,” Kaz said. “Were there any kinsmen of his working here?”
“No,” Coburn said. “My workers were mainly from New Georgia and right here on Rendova.”
“Why did you bring others all the way from Malaita to Bougainville?” Kaz asked.
“Malaitamen are good workers,” Coburn said. “And tough. I was clearing out a new section of bush for planting and I knew I could count on them for hard labor and no complaints. Some say there’s still headhunters up in the hills there. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Did you happen to see Sam Chang on Bougainville?” I asked. “He went into hiding when the Japs invaded.”
“No, I didn’t. I docked my cutter at Arawa and was looking for a vehicle when the Japs began bombing. They blew my sailboat to pieces and strafed the harbor. That’s when I knew I’d waited too long.”
“You never made it to your plantation?” Kaz asked.
“No. I went south, along the coast road, hitching a ride with some Australian troops who’d been ordered to withdraw to the island of Balalae, where there’s a dirt airstrip. We were bombed again and two of them were killed. I decided that the Japs were likely to attack and capture any airstrip within miles, so I left their company. Ended up in a coastal village within sight of Oema Island, beyond which is Choiseul. I gave a native what cash I had and took off in his canoe. This leg’s no good anymore, but there’s nothing wrong with my arms, I’ll tell you that.”
“That’s a long way,” I said, remembering the maps I’d seen. “And close to Pavau, too. Did you stop there?”
“No, by God! It doesn’t look far on a map, but I had no time for visits, not on that trip. I rested on Oema and then paddled all night to get to Choiseul. Nearly did me in.” Coburn rubbed his eyes, weary at the recollection of his voyage.
“Daniel also escaped to Choiseul,” Kaz said. “From Pavau.”
“He did. I met him there, along with a boatful of nuns he’d gotten out. I told you he was brave. That was a risky run he made. Two ships left Pavau harbor that day. One was an old island ferry, crammed with refugees. It capsized under the weight and the Japs machine-gunned those who weren’t drowned straight off, or so the story went from the few who made it out after that. The currents brought the bodies straight back to Pavau, washed them up for days. Daniel was smart, he only took what his small boat could hold. A half dozen nuns, a wounded flier, and three other Malaitamen.”
“Is it possible Daniel turned anyone away, and they held a grudge?” I asked.
“Well, I suppose anything’s possible,” Coburn granted. “But likely is another story. The nuns on Bougainville were well thought of. I doubt anyone would contest their need to escape the bloody Japs.”
“No, I don’t suppose so,” I said. I watched the workers hacking away at the jungle growth as I finished the coffee in my cup. Even though it had gone cold, it was good enough to keep the wheels turning in my mind. “You said a minute ago that you didn’t have time to stop at Pavau during that trip. But you had previously? When?”
“I did, a few days before I went on to Bougainville.”
“Did you meet Daniel? Or see John Kari?”
“No, I went around to the north side, to stop in at Silas Porter’s place. He’s somewhat of a recluse, lives on a remote part of the island. I wanted to let him know what was coming. He didn’t have a radio, so I knew he’d be out of touch. Which is the way he wants it, but there are times to intrude on a man’s privacy.”
“He’s a Coastwatcher now as well,” I said.
“Porter? I wouldn’t have thought it of him,” Coburn said, his forehead furrowed. “Not the type.”
“You’ve been away from the Solomons since your escape, I take it,” Kaz said.
“Yes, as soon as I got off Choiseul, I went down to New Caledonia. Stayed with a friend from the French export firm that handles my beans. Came back up here as soon as I heard Rendova had been taken. All the natives thought I was dead, after not coming back here from Bougainville. Porter? Really?” He was having a hard time believing it.