James grinned at him and raised one eyebrow. Gregory grinned back and went on
`You're quite right, my boy. While you labour in the heat of the day I'll toil not neither will I spin, but I may do a few other things. When you have collected your team you can come and pick me up; then we'll make all steam back to Tujoa.'
Next morning, Hunt's representative took them along the wharf and aboard the Southern Cross, a cabin cruiser that could accommodate a dozen passengers, and introduced them to her Captain, Bob Wyndhoik a tubby, brown skinned little man who, it transpired, had a mixed ancestry of Dutch, Indonesian and Maori and had been born in New Zealand.
He said they were lucky to get him, as he had been booked to take a party of Americans for a week's trip round the islands, but it had been cancelled the day before; and, at the moment, there was no other boat of the size they wanted available at Lautoka.
When told what his boat was required for, he said that he would be taking on stores during the morning, so could sail that afternoon. But he stipulated that any divers they collected must sleep on deck. James said that was customary and a price was agreed; then he and Gregory went ashore to get some Fijian money from the bank on the corner of the main street, and do some shopping.
On the top of a slope opposite the hotel stood the Lautoka Club, which had a fine view over the bay and a big swimming pool By courtesy of the secretary, they had drinks and a swim there before lunch. After the meal they had their baggage taken down to the Southern Cross and went aboard.
The weather was clement and the blue sea only slightly choppy, so, when they were well clear of the inshore reefs, Captain Bob Wyndhoik came and sat himself down beside them, under the awning shading the after deck. He proved a cheerful, garrulous little man and, having spent over fifteen years in the Fijis, knew a lot about them.
An outrigger canoe beating towards Lautoka swept past them, tilted right over, her triangular sail lying at an angle of forty five degrees from the surface of the sea. 'Ah!' exclaimed the rotund Bob. `Look at her! What a sight for you! Them Fijians certainly are good sailors. Time was when they built the finest canoes in all the Pacific. Great double ones with decks fifteen or more feet wide above the two hulls, and a thatched house on the stern for the Chiefs to live in when they went on long voyages. They was long voyages, too.
Down to Tonga, up to Samoa, across to Tahiti, way south to New Zealand or east to New Caledonia and the Solomon’s. Even all way up to Hawaii they went, and that's close on three thousand mile.'
`Still more amazing,' Gregory put in, `many centuries ago great numbers of them decided to emigrate, and sailed in their canoes through the East Indies, and right across the Indian Ocean to Madagascar.'
`True enough, sir. That was the Polynesians, though. Them is a fair skinned lot, and much more knowledgeable, as you might say. But the Fijians built the best canoes. Why, old King Thakobau built one as a present for his pal, King George of Tonga, that was over a hundred foot long, and could carry a hundred warriors. Took seven years to build her, it did. That was way back in the early forties, when the practice still was to christen a new canoe with a human sacrifice. Not content with that, they clubbed a few poor goops to make a nice foundation before they laid down the keel. In this case, a couple of missionary gents called Lyth and Hunt persuaded them to cut out any further bloodletting when the great canoe was launched and not to do the usual on her maiden voyage, which was to collar some unsuspecting feller at each port of call and bust his head open on the prow.
`But when they got her to Ban, the island from which eastern Fiji was ruled, there was an accident. As the tall mast was lowered for the first time, its heel slipped and it killed a man. Old King Thak took that as a sign that the gods were angry 'cos the usual sacrifices had not been made before she were delivered to him. He promptly put things right by having twenty one undesirables hunted out and clubbed to death.'
`Keeping alive in those days must have been a pretty chancy business for ordinary people,' Gregory remarked.,
`It was, sir. You'd never believe how cruel them old Chiefs could be. They bought it themselves, though, when they got old and sick. The young blood who was to step into a Chief's shoes just couldn't wait till his old man died. It was common practice for them to bury their pas alive.
'Another thing. Every time they built a bure they had a special drill for keeping the evil spirits away. Into each hole where they meant to put one of them great pared tree trunks that hold the building upright, they put a living man. Then they lowered the trunk, made the poor bugger embrace it, and shovelled in the earth atop of him, till he couldn't breathe no more and gave up the ghost.'
Looking across at James, Gregory gave a wicked little smile. `I take it that goes for Tujoa, too?'
With a slightly embarrassed look, James returned his smile. `I fear so. If anyone decided to do away with my bure they would find in the foundations quite a number of human skeletons. In view of the beliefs of my forefathers, I suppose that's quite understandable. But it does seem pretty awful that they did not club the poor wretches before stuffing them down into the holes.'
Bob took him up. `For this purpose that wouldn't have seemed right to them, Ratu. All the same, the Melanesians were great boys with their clubs. They had spears and, some of them, bows and arrows. But they used them most times for hunting. Clubs were the thing. They even used them on girls they wanted for their wives. Just a light tap on the head, no more, then the young lady was carried back for you know what in the chap's bure. But early in the last century the
Ratu Kadava Levu introduced a new custom at his capital, Bau Island. He assembled all the shy bachelors and unmarried girls. Made them sit in two lines facing each other. Then each man in turn rolled an orange to a girl he liked the look of. If the lady liked the look of the young man she rolled the orange back. Then, hooray, wedding feast a few days later. If not, nothing doing.!
'That was a much more civilised way of doing things,' Gregory commented with a smile.
Bob nodded. `Pretty good idea, providing the orange ran to the girl it was aimed at. Later the missionaries took over and the marriage ceremony became a sort of hell fire warning with “dos” and “don'ts”. Many couples, though, escaped that. Old black crow missionaries could not be everywhere
and young people got tired of waiting. So when a British
Resident came round he just waved a Union Jack over the couple and that was O.K. by all.'
Half an hour before the sun was due to set they were approaching Manon's island. As Bob Wyndhoik brought the cruiser in to the anchorage, Gregory was having pleasant thoughts about Manon. In his mind's eye he visualised again her unusual but attractive face. Somehow the receding chin and sallow complexion did not seem to matter. Her eyes were magnificent and her laughter infectious. Her body was something to dream about: the firm, rounded breasts, the narrow waist, the perfectly formed ‘legs below the powerful hips, and that alluring `V' of crisp black curls on the lower part of her flat stomach. He recalled, too, her wild abandon gasping, crying out endearments and pleas to be ravished more forcefully each time he had possessed her. The week that lay ahead promised him a renewal of all those pleasures.
The motor cruiser anchored; a small speed boat was lowered from her stern and Gregory and James were taken ashore. On the beach old Joe Joe met them. He smiled a greeting, but seemed downcast. When Gregory asked for his mistress he replied
`Madame not here, Madame not here since ten, eleven days. She in Suva. But she lend house to friends. Frenchmen from Tahiti. They come in dirty old tub of yacht. Two live here all time. Others sail off up to Yasawas wanting to get divers. Last night all come back here. Make much merry_ Then, this morning, bad thing happen. They walk across island to swim from best beach on far side. On the head of one a coconut fall. They bring him back and he is dead.'