Wealth of the Islands (2 page)

“
Welcome to Melonga!
”
The freshly painted sign was the only sign of life that Helen could see at the first of the shacks by the airstrip. She walked on past it towards the second, a newer building, that someone had taken the trouble to re-thatch recently.

“
Is anyone there?
”
she called out.

“
You off dat plane?
”
the reply came lazily.
“
Come in, now. Where
’
s you for? The hotel?
”

Helen crouched down to get in the door and blinked rapidly to accustom her eyes to the dark interior. A Polynesian man was sitting, cross-legged, on
the floor. He rose slowly to his feet at the sight of her, a great smile breaking over his face.

“
How come you come here on the freight plane?
”
he asked her admiringly.

“
There didn
’
t seem to be any other way to come,
”
Helen answered dryly.

“
Oh, there is!
”
the man claimed.
“
There
’
s a boat every month and an American flight here now too. That
’
s because of the hotel. Have you seen an American hotel?
”
he asked with ill-concealed awe.
“
It
’
s the biggest building on the Islands. Mr. Harmon says, come the season, we
’
re going to be swamped by all the American visitors that will come to his hotel. He
’
s arranging transport just as fast as he can.
”

Helen looked bewildered.
“
I see,
”
she said.
“
And how do I get to this hotel?
”

“
It
’
s on the main island.
”
The man nodded slowly.
“
First of all, I check your papers.
”
He laughed softly.
“
People landing here! I check freight all the time! This the first time I check a young lady!
”

Apparently he knew what to do, though. He stamped her passport with a neat symbol bearing the legend of Melonga Islands, and handed her documents back to her with a courtly bow.

“
Is someone coming to meet you?
”
he asked when he had finished.

She shook her head. She was beginning to think that she would never get off this barren island.
“
How do you come and go?
”
she enquired.

“
Government boat,
”
he said.
“
But not allowed passengers. No trouble though. The
Sweet Promise
will come by soon. They
’
ll give you a lift across the water.
”

“
When are they due?
”
Helen asked rather desperately.

“
Soon,
”
he answered soothingly.
“
They come by soon.
”

Helen was glad to leave the hut and go outside
again. She looked anxiously at her watch and saw that it was already five o
’
clock in the evening. If this boat didn
’
t come soon, it would be dark. She didn
’
t much like the thought. It wasn
’
t that she was afraid of the dark, but who knew what kind of a boat the one that was coming might be? She could see vividly in her mind
’
s eye the fragile outrigger canoes that she knew most of the islanders used. How would she ever get her things on board such a thing? And she wasn
’
t suitably dressed for such an adventure. She took a rueful look at her neat, tight skirt, and the ruffed blouse she was wearing, fastened with a cameo brooch at the neck. It suited her rather austere features and the way she wore her hair in a frankly Edwardian style, but it would not suit clambering in and out of any but the most civilised kind of transport.

T
he island she was on was not very large. In twenty minutes she had completely walked round its circumference. From one point, she had been able to see the whole chain of islands looping round the horseshoe-shaped lagoon. The main island was as big.as all the others put together, but she could only just make it out in the distance. The islands spread for several miles, the work of how many million little creatures who
had died and left their coral skeletons behind them, until the islands had appeared after many million years, and the birds had clothed them with vegetation. It had all happened thousands of years before the advent of man, but he too had probably arrived more by a matter of chance than anything else. The Polynesians had been fantastic sailors in their past. They had set out across the incredible distances of the Pacific with no more than the stars to guide them, and: had populated the islands one by one, settling down on the different places they landed, and forgetting over the long generations their nautical past and the strength of purpose that had taken them so many, many thousands of miles.

Helen scuffed her shoe in the white coral sand and watched the multitude of tiny crabs that covered the beach running for cover. She was so intent on what she was doing that she didn
’
t notice the Polynesian official running across the sand towards her.

“
The
Sweet Promise
is almost here,
”
he told her.
“
I
’
ve hailed them to pull in and collect you. It
’
s best that you go and stand at the end of the airstrip. The water is deep there and they can come in right alongside.
”

In fact it formed an almost perfect jetty. Helen stood there waiting for the boat to come in close, the gold of the sun catching her hair and giving a touch of its own glory to her skin. But she was unaware of this herself. She had only eyes for the sailing ship coming towards her, its red and white striped sails flapping idly in the evening stillness. She was an old boat, but in her time
s
he had been a lady and her lines still bore witness to her nobler beginnings. Helen wondered what she was doing here now, and who owned such a boat and therefore the delight of slipping back and forth amongst the islands of the Pacific, subject to no one but their own needs.

“
You like her?
”
the Polynesian asked with a grin.

“
She
’
s perfect!
”
Helen breathed.
“
A coat of paint and some less mended sails and she
’
d be beautiful!
”

The Polynesian laughed.
“
The boss likes her the way she is!
”
he informed her.
“
The paint will have to wait until the end of his work here.
”

Helen was so intent on the boat that she couldn
’
t have cared less about her owner. Sheer, naked envy stirred within her. How she would loved to have owned a boat like that. How her father would have done before her! It was ideal in every way—not so large as to need a whole crew to handle her, but big enough to be able to live on board and to use her as a base for diving, or for carrying a small amount of cargo, or even just to sail the oceans in a modicum of comfort.

Sweet Promise
was a name to conjure with, for she did indeed promise a hundred sweet adventures for anyone lucky enough to have the handling of her.

Standing on the deck at the bows was a lean man in a filthy yachting cap.

“
I suppose you want to go to the main island?
”
he greeted her as soon as he came within earshot.
“
How much luggage have you?
”

“
Not much,
”
she answered.

The man hailed the Polynesian official and told
him
to throw her cases aboard on to the deck.
“
I
’
ll stow it away in a second,
”
he said lazily.
“
Do you think you can jump aboard?
”
he added to Helen, eyeing her straight skirt with a half-doubtful, half-mischievous look.

“
I can try,
”
she assured him.

He grinned.
“
Don
’
t bother!
”
he said.
“
I
’
ll come ashore for you
!”

He was as good as his word. Sun-tanned bare feet landed with a thud beside her and his strong hands had grasped her under her elbows and had
manhandle
d her aboard long before she had time to open her mouth to protest.

“
We can
’
t allow you to get your finery wet,
”
he laughed at her.
“
You
’
ll want to arrive at the hotel looking as fresh as you do right now. Am I wrong?
”

Helen didn
’
t answer him. She rubbed her elbows, trying not to feel foolish. The scrubbed decks of the boat swayed beneath her and she had to clutch on to the hand-rail to keep her balance. There was a smell of diesel oil mixed with salt and canvas that she remembered so well from other boats in other
tim
es.

“
Oh, you are lucky
!”
she exclaimed.

His eyes met hers, sharp, with interest.
“
So you
’
ve been aboard boats before,
”
he said.
“
But not in these parts, I fancy?
”

Helen shook her head.
“
In Europe,
”
she said.
“
Mostly with my father,
”
she added.
“
I haven
’
t done much sailing of late.
”

His eyes went straight to her wedding-ring and then back to her face.
“
That
’
s the penalty of marrying,
”
he said abruptly.

“
It need not be,
”
she answered.

He hurried away in his bare feet to the rear of the boat and shoved the engine into gear and set their course for straight out to sea, avoiding the hidden reefs
as he made his way towards the harbour and small port
on the
m
a
in
island. Helen waved to the Polynesian
Customs man and he waved vigorously back at her
,
glad to see his
protégé
e successfully on her way. How
lovely it was, Helen thought, as the water slapped playfully against the bow and the wind caught in her hair, giving her a taste of the freedom that only boats and a wide sea to sail in can give.

She sat on the roof of the cabin, her feet stretched out before her to keep her balance, and watched the men working on the boat around her. Most of the crew were Polynesians, their brown bodies gleaming in the evening light. They were all of them big men, their
fl
esh
as soft as a woman
’
s, deceiving the eye, because underneath their muscles were iron strong.

A few minutes later the man was back beside her.
“
You
’
d be safer in the saloon,
”
he said abruptly.
“
Come on in and I
’
ll make you some coffee.
”

She thanked
him
and, although she was sorry to leave her vantage point on deck, she followed him down the narrow companionway into the saloon. It was bigger than she had expected it to be. Lined in polished wood, it was still possible to sit on the seats s that lined the central space and see out through the oval portholes.

“
You have a beautiful boat!
”
Helen told him with appreciation.
“
How long have you had her?
”