kind of instinct. I’d say it was one of two things – a hell of a
high-powered station a long way off – or a low-powered station damn
close.” “Well, man, which was it? demanded Campbell impatiently.
“I’d say it was a low-power station close by – but don’t ask me to
prove it.” All right, thanks, Shorty. Stay around that frequency.
Maybe you can pick up something else,”said Geordie.
As Shorty left and Geordie turned to his navigation again Campbell said
to me, “What do you make of that?” “I don’t make anything of it.
There’s not enough to go on just that some Australian mentioned the
Esmerelda.”
“It must have been Hadley,” said Campbell positively. “I’d give my
back teeth to know who he was talking to – someone on land there.” We
abandoned speculation as by then we were going in through the pass. It
was getting dark and Geordie was on edge. The pass was narrow and
there was a dog-leg bend in it and the darkness coupled with the
four-knot current made the passage very tricky. But we got through
into the lagoon and dropped anchor offshore opposite the lights of a
large village.
A small fleet of canoes came out to meet us and soon a number of
Polynesians were climbing on deck.
I had decided not to wait until morning, but to act right away.
It was only early evening, perhaps the best time to see a busy doctor,
and there was the fear of being followed to spur me to action. I
raised my voice. “Where can I find the doctor – “I Di Schouten?” I
asked.
There was an increased babble and a stocky thickset man with an
engaging grin pushed his way to the front. “These boys don’ spik
English,” he said. “They spik Franqaise. I spik English. I bin to
Hawaii.” I said, “My name is Mike – what’s yours?” “I are Piro.”
“All right, Piro. Where do I find the doctor?” ‘.Oh, Schouten?” Piro
waved his hand – “He round the other side water. He in hospital.
Y’un’erstan’hospital?” “He’s at the hospital, over there?” “That
right.”
“How can I get there?” “You come wit’me – I take you in jeep.” I
looked into the darkness. “How far is it? Piro shrugged. “Not far.
Twenny minute maybe.” “Will you take me now?” “Sure. You come
now.”
He was suddenly cautious. “You pay me?” “Yes, I’ll pay you.” I
turned to Campbell among the jostling crowd on deck and said, “I may as
well see Schouten tonight.
Tell Geordie to keep a close eye on Kane – don’t let him get away.
He might try.” He said, “I’ll come with you.” “No, I think not. But
I will take an escort – Jim Taylor, I think.” I said this because he
was the handiest, and grabbing him by an arm I pulled him towards me
and briefly told him our errand. He smiled and nodded, and went off to
find Geordie and tell him.
Campbell looked closely at me, then gripped my arm.
“Take it easy, son. Don’t go off at half-cock.” “I won’t,” I
promised.
“But by God I’ll get to the truth.” We went over the side and dropped
into Piro’s canoe, a leaky and unstable craft. Once ashore, Piro
introduced us to his proudest possession – his jeep. It was a relic of
the wave of war which had washed over the Pacific -and it looked it.
Most of the bodywork was stripped and the engine was naked and
unashamed, very, like the naked toddlers who squalled and chattered,
their eyes big at the sight of the strangers revealed in the flare of
torches. We climbed in and I sat on a hard wooden box, innocent of
upholstery, as Piro started the engine. It banged and spluttered, but
caught, and Piro threw in the gears with a jerk and we were off,
bouncing along the beach and swerving round a clump of palms dimly
illuminated by the feeble headlight. It was very noisy. The sudden
change from being at sea in Esmerelda was unnerving.
Piro was very proud of his jeep. “Best car on Tanakabu,”he announced
cheerfully as we winced at the racket.
“Has Dr Schouten got a car?” “Ho, no! Doctor got noting jus’stomick
medicine.” We drove past the dark bulk of a copra warehouse and then
we were on a narrow track through a palm plantation and Piro waved at
it.
“These trees mine. All us got trees.” “Has the doctor got trees?”
“Lilly one lot, noting much. He too busy wit’ medicine and knife.” We
swerved inland and I lost sight of the sea, which seemed impossible on
such a small island, but I could still hear the unceasing roar of the
surf on the beaches, in between the car noises. After a few minutes we
came back onto a beach and Piro pointed ahead. “There is hospital.”
In the distance was a large cluster of lights – much bigger than the
village we had left. I said, “That’s a big hospital for a small
island, Piro.” “Ho, plenny boys come from other islands ver’ sick.
Plenny wahines too. Many lepers there, an’ boys wit’ swells.” A leper
colony! I felt a shiver of atavistic horror. I knew intellectually
that leprosy isn’t particularly infectious, but of all diseases it is
the most abhorred and I didn’t feel like driving into a colony.
Piro didn’t seem worried though, and drove blithely off the A beach
right into the hospital grounds, pulling up in front of a long
low-roofed shack. “Schouten is there,”he said.”You wan’ I should
wait?” “Yes, you can wait,”I answered. “I won’t be long. Jim, don’t
come in with me, if you don’t mind – but be ready if I call you.
“Sure thing, Mike.” Jim leaned back and offered Piro a cigarette.
I walked up the two steps on to a long verandah and knocked on the
door. A voice said, 16! 16P and I walked along the verandah to a room
at the far end. It was an office, the door open, and a big man was
seated at a desk, writing by the light of a Coleman lamp. There was a
half-empty brandy bottle and a full glass at his elbow.
I said, “Dr Schouten?” He looked up. “Oui?” “I’m sorry. I have very
little French. Do you speak English?” He smiled and it transformed
his ravaged face. “Ja, I speak English,” he said and stood up. In his
prime, he must have tipped the scales at two hundred and twenty pounds
of bone and muscle, but now he was flabby and soft and his paunch had
taken over. His face was seamed and lined and he had two deep clefts
from the nose to the corners of his mouth, forming soft dewlaps which
shook on his cheeks.
He offered me his hand and said, “It’s not often we get strangers on
Tanakabu – at least not at this end of the island.” his accent was
heavily Dutch but his English was as fluent as the Governor’s.
I said, “We just came in.” “I know. I saw the lights of your ship as
you came through the pass, and then I heard Piro’s jeep coming.” He
waved towards the window. “That is why you see no patients about
sometimes they shock casual visitors, so on those occasions I keep them
out of sight.” He opened a cupboard. “Will you have a drink?” I
said, “My name is Trevelyan.” Schouten dropped the glass he had taken
from the cupboard and it smashed on the floor. He turned his head
sharply and looked at me over his shoulder. I saw that his face had
turned a sickly yellow under the tan and his eyes were furtive and
haunted.
“Trevelyan?” he mumbled. He seemed to have difficulty speaking.
“Yes.” He turned round. “Praise be to God,”he said. “I thought you
were dead.” I looked at him in surprise. “Dead! Why should I be
dead?” He sat at the desk, his hands clutching the edge. “But they
said you were dead,” he said softly. His eyes were brooding and seemed
to be looking at something else – something terrible.
Then I caught on – he thought I was Mark! I said,”Who said I was
dead?”
“I wrote out the death certificate – here at this desk. Mark Trevelyan
was the name. You died of peritonitus.”He looked up at me and there
was fear in his eyes.
I said gently, “I’m Michael Trevelyan – Mark was my brother.” He gave
a long shuddering sigh, then his gaze dropped to the glass on his desk
and he picked it up and drained it in one swallow.
I said, “Perhaps you’d better tell me about it.” He gave no answer,
merely hunching his shoulders and avoiding my eyes.
“You’ve said too much – and too little,” I pursued. “You must tell me
what happened to Mark.” He was an old man, rotten with loneliness and