The Love Beach (32 page)

Then arrows began to fly. Abe heard them whistling first. 'Down! All get down!' he said in a sort of muttered shout. 'Down you come sir.' He pulled at Sir William's thin elderly leg and the Governor almost collapsed on him. Cooper followed.

'Damn you,' swore the Governor at Abe. Abe looked hurt. 'Only thinking of you, sir,' he said. 'Those poisoned arrows can give you a nasty sting.'

'Open fire!' ordered the Governor, ignoring Abe now he crouched and fired his pistol at an angle so that the bullet would fly harmlessly at the blue sky. A sagging sort of volley followed from Cooper and Conway, both of whom were keeping their heads well down, and from the police boat and the sailors in the French boat. Davies felt himself tighten with fear. The arrows sang like bees. He could not see a single head sticking up from the police boat behind them. Its course had become a ragged zig‑zag which seemed to indicate that the helmsman was lying down at the wheel. The boat rolled and pitched like some ghost ship.

Abe saw it too. 'Why put your head up if you're shooting to miss?' he asked logically. The guns continued to sound, ragged and stammering. The arrows, by contrast, flew in formation. The natives howled and pulled their bows.

'They haven't hit us yet,' said Davies to Abe. 'I haven't heard one hit.'

Abe turned his big creased face to the Welshman. 'That,' he said with the air of a great strategist, 'that, boy, is because they're not shooting at us. They're all over the top. See, look at that lot.' He pointed up as though sighting a flight of birds. 'Right over. And now that lot's going the

other way. There, see.'

'By Christ, that's good,' said Davies, relieved. 'I thought they were rotten shots.'

'They're playing ping‑pong,' grunted Abe. 'Why waste

good poisoned arrows on a few white men. Right over the top, look, there's another lot.'

'Like King Harold and the Normans at Hastings,' said Davies, suddenly comforted by the lack of immediate danger.

'Yea,' said Abe. 'Could be they read that up.'

Sir William, realizing that his boat was not the target for either side, slowed the engine and stood up behind the wheel. He watched the symmetrical flight of the arrows curve high above him, saw the men firing and falling on either flank. Looking behind he saw the apparently riderless police boat wallowing through the swell and then, beyond that, M. Martin standing aloof and observing the battle while smoking a long cigarette. The French Governor waved encouragingly. Doubtfully Sir William waved back.

At least, he thought, the two tribes were still separated. He had driven a wedge between them. Hopefully he picked up the loud hailer and called once again: 'Stop! In the name of Her Majesty's Government stop I You fella go home Mama!'

At fifty yards he presented an easy target and Joseph of Arimathea, aiming casually, put a long arrow straight through the tin skin of the megaphone, through one wall and out the other, while Sir William still shouted into it. The Governor looked angrily at the arrow and then towards the bowman, who waved.

'Hell, sir, they're all coming now.' Cooper was on his feet and had heaved his bulky binoculars to his face. He dropped them immediately, not liking what he saw, then swung around to look at the mass of the St Mark's army which had been sitting watching the third phase of the engagement. 'Both sides, sir. They're all moving in.'

A hundred canoes came from the port and another hundred from starboard, rushing through the sea with the warriors arched against the paddles, rushing into the final

stage of the sea battle.

'Tell them to stop, sir,' suggested Abe callously. 'Give them a shout.'

'Stop blathering. man,' answered Cooper. The Governor said nothing. He was observing the foremost echelon of each tribe, the sections he had kept apart and who had been fighting with arrows. They had, with that uncanny timing that suggested long rehearsal, stopped firing and were now moving forward again, the advance party of the main army which floated three hundred yards behind them. Again the enemies had an attitude of common purpose.

Quickly worried, the Governor spun first one way then the other and fired a warning shot from his pistol over the lines of the black heads converging on his ship. The natives took no heed.

'Prepare to repel boarders!' he ordered and was annoyed with himself because his voice had become a croak. He lifted the arrow‑shot megaphone and hooted: 'Prepare to repel boarders,' towards the reluctant boats astern. From the police boat several heads looked up and bobbed down again.

'Damn them,' swore Sir William. He brandished his pistol and saw that Davies and Abe had prudently armed themselves with marlin spikes. Cooper was waving his revoj'ver dangerously and Conway picked his nose and held his gun soberly ready.

The Governor thought he felt old enough for a bath‑chair in some retired English town. 'Prepare to repel boarders,' he ordered again.

From both flanks the tribesmen came, singing again their splendidly combined harmony, first and second tune, all together as confidently as if a single conductor was leading them. They were quickly around the launch.

'The first man over the side is dead,' threatened Sir William and, somewhere deep in his mind, wondered if the sentence made sense. Davies felt stiff with fright, but the marlin spike was hard and comforting. Abe was shaking his big head as though sorry it all had to end like this. He 239

puts his hand on the pistol arm of Cooper which was shaking. 'Don't do that son, you make me nervous,' he said. Conway was still as cold iron, his pistol with its nose slightly in the air.

But not one Melanesian head appeared over the side. Instead the men of both tribes gathered industriously around the hull, their enmity shelved in a common purpose. They were like begging natives around a newly arrived cruise boat. They clamoured there for a while. Then selected men began to rip out the planks from the side of the vessel, using axes and spears and their powerful hands. 'The Governor's launch shuddered. No one moved on board. Sir William was nonplussed. It seemed impossible to shoot in cold blood at men involved in carpentry. 'Stop it,' he called over his normal voice, realizing his inadequacy. 'Stop it at once. This is government property.'

'What are they doing?' asked Davies, not sure.

'Making a hole in the bloody thing,' said Conway.

'We'll sink,' said Davies.

'I expect we will,' said Conway. 'But we won't die, anyway. They just want us out of their way so they can get on with their battle.'

Outraged, Sir William rose from the deck, but a pattern of arrows, shot from both sides. sprinkled the cabin just above his head. He dropped down again. 'The devils, the damned devils,' he said.

'We're all alive,' pointed out Conway. 'At least we will be if nobody sticks their head above the deck again. The worse we can do is sink.'

They sank. They sank spectacularly in a rich Pacific swirl, the sea gushing and pouring through the mouths of the holes that the natives had opened in both sides of the hull. It came in like water from a fractured main, two smooth curling necks of it, one from each side, swilling around in the boat, filling it quickly.

'Abandon ship,' shrugged the Governor. 'Everybody over the side.'

'The ship is abandoning us,' said Conway, taking off his shoes.

'You have wisdom for every moment,' said the pale Cooper, nevertheless taking off his shoes too. He was surprised and thankful to be still alive and he felt some of his confidence returning.

'Can everybody swim?' asked the Governor sternly, looking about. They all nodded or said 'Yes'.

The Governor looked miserable. 'I can't,' he confessed. 'Never learned. The water's too damned cold in Scotland.'

Cooper and Abe helped the elderly man, now all subdued and pathetic in his anxiety not to drown, into a life jacket and assured him that they would keep him afloat. The boat was turning gracefully now as though she were mounted on a very slow turntable. The forepeak was well down, nuzzling under the water, the lapping small waves climbing enthusiastically over the side of the boat like children entering a forbidden garden.

They left by the stern, five plops into the Pacific, the last one a slow hesitant drop as the Governor went into the sea. They were aware of other things happening, native canoes hurrying by, the grunts and other noises of another hand‑to-hand battle. There were hundreds of combatants now, dugouts slicing through the water to join the fight, cutting by the heads of the five white men in the water. Conway and Abe helped the old Governor along, hung tragically like some hunting trophy through the lifebelt, arms hopelessly stretched out, walking with his legs, spitting out the salt water. Fortunately it was warm and easy for swimming. Davies patrolled alongside the Governor and his helpers and Cooper was irritably swimming on the other side. They sensibly moved away from both the battle and their sinking boat. It was strange looking at it from water level. The two thousand fighting men, a hundred yards away, seemed like giants grappling in the sea. The noise was almost deadened at that low level and waves coming in with the swell blocked Davies's eyes as he watched. More war canoes came by them, going like businesslike sharks through the water.

'Are there any sharks around here?' Davies asked Abe thoughtfully.

'Sharks all over the Pacific,' answered Abe affably. 'Around here they're not generally speaking hungry but I wouldn't like to say about today with all that blood on the water.'

The little party began to move strongly towards the boats which had been behind them. It was difficult to see very much from sea level, but they could see the white hull of M. Martin's cruiser closing on them. Davies wondered where the police boat had gone.

A swimming native policeman approached him smiling as though to answer the question. His wet face seemed stretched with the grin and he seemed glad to see them. Davies saw that he was followed by a little fleet of floating policemen, two white, the remainder black.

'They sank us too, sir,' beamed the English officer in the direction of the panting Governor. 'Crept up, sir, didn't see them coming.'

Sir William turned his wet head with difficulty in the uncomfortable lifebelt. He was feeling elderly, tired, and full of salt water. 'You wouldn't be likely to see them would you,' he said, coughing violently at the middle of the sentence, 'lying on the bloody deckboards.'

Nothing more was said. The efficient M. Martin had brought his boat to them and one by one, the Governor first, they were hoisted aboard, and laid out on the deck. M. Martin knelt chivalrously by Sir William. 'I am most sorry, your Excellency,' he said. 'I found it necessary to retire for a short distance in order that they should not sink my boat.'

'Damn good job you did,' said Sir William. 'Drat them. They're scrapping again.'

'Slaughtering each other, I'm afraid,' nodded the French Governor. 'There is little to be done. The other boat, I am glad to inform you, is quite safe. It seems that your Madame Flagg and M. Pollet came to some agreement with the natives and they refrained from sinking the vessel.'

From their lying positions on the deck the wet men heard at that moment the dull, awful sounds of the battle. Davies stood up, so did Abe and Conway. Three hundred yards away the huge fight was still undiminished in intensity. Two thousand men were at close quarters now; a rumbling came from them. Many were dying. The bodies floated by on the current and with them the tom canoes. From behind they heard an engine and Mr English's white boat, with the phlegmatic Pollet and the other occupants still stiffly observing the mayhem, came alongside.

Mrs Flagg had stood starched and pale as the others, but suddenly she put her hands to her mouth and screamed like a schoolgirl: 'Come on St Mark's!'

Everyone in the two boats watched her antic. She became aware of them and she turned, at first embarrassed, then defiant. Her face heaved. 'I want them to win,' she said.

The sine" black battle continued, a low storm on the peaceful sea. The white gallery looked on helplessly, except the Governor who could look no more and was sitting in a wet sulk on the deck. M. Martin was positioned a little higher than the rest. Suddenly he motioned to one of his sailors for a pair of binoculars. He swung with them, away from the battle, away from the islands, looking out to the clean line of the ocean.

'A warship approaches,' he announced.

'The Navy!' exclaimed Sir William rising in difficult cramped stages to his feet. 'Thank God for that.'

M. Martin looked again. 'The French Navy,' he added without triumph. 'Our little warship the Auriol from Noumea come for the royal visit.'

'Hell,' said the British Governor honestly. He looked apologetically at the French Governor. 'But no. Hell,' he repeated. 'Why does it always rain on me?' He stared down at his clinging clothes and laughed a wry hopeless laugh. 'Well, your Excellency, will you ask them to do something about this er ... fr ... fracas.'

M. Martin smiled sympathetically. The triumph he thought he might feel in such a situation was much diminished by the soaked resignation of his counterpart. 'I will, your Excellency, with pleasure. Signaller.'

One of the Melanesians, suddenly full of naval strength after the sight of the warship, sprang up beside the French Governor. The French vessel, a grinding gunboat which had been doddering around the islands since she became obsolete fifteen years before, was large on the sea now. She came towards the two pale boats and their people, steaming full ahead and coughing grey smoke with the exertion. If the islanders saw her they took no heed but merely continued with their bludgeoning among the canoes.

'She's in flag range now,' calculated M. Martin. His naval commander nodded.

M. Martin dictated the signal and the signaller, with a sly cautious look over his shoulder to make sure that the tribes were still fighting out of arrow range, began thrusting and circling his flags. The French Governor watched for the acknowledgement and reply and then the signaller translated it.

'The gun isn't working,' he said apologetically to Sir William. The British Governor split his face with a small grin and looked down.