Strange Conflict (27 page)

It was only three o'clock and Simon could not possibly yet have reached the coast, but the plane was now awash in all its length and might suddenly sink under them at any moment, leaving them to be torn limb from limb by the merciless brutes who lay in wait for them.

For what seemed a long time they all sat staring at their patient enemies, who swam slowly backwards and forwards or lay basking and apparently comatose. But, roused again by the blistering heat of the sun, Rex grunted:

‘We'd best get our clothes on, otherwise we'll be fried here.'

They were all terribly thirsty but had nothing with them to drink except Richard's flask of brandy, and the Duke said that to drink that would only make their thirst worse.

Painfully they drew their stiff garments on to their scorched limbs, then they spread themselves out on the surface of the wreck in the hope that by distributing their weight more evenly it would bear them a little longer. Rex crawled up on to the tail, which was cocked up a little but dipped almost to sea-level under him, de Richleau remained in the middle of the fuselage, while Richard and Marie Lou sat each side of the cockpit where the wings joined the body.

While they were moving they kept a wary eye upon their nearest enemies as a slip might have proved fatal, and having settled themselves again they clung on to their precarious holds, knowing that if they lost them nothing could prevent their being torn to pieces. The sea lapped gently at the sides of the plane with a little chuckling noise, but it was an evil chuckling, and the beauty of the summer seascape was entirely lost to them. They could think only of their roasting necks, their parching thirst and the red death that awaited them in the blue waters.

For over half an hour they had been so engrossed with the sharks that they had not looked in any other direction. The Duke then roused himself to concentrate sufficiently to slip out of his body in order to find out how Simon was faring. To his relief he saw that the rubber boat was beached upon a pebbly shore and that Simon and Philippa were hurrying along the beach about half a mile from it; but there was no human habitation in sight so it might be hours yet before they could get a boat and a rescue party. He was brought back to his body by a sudden commotion.

Unobserved by the castaways, a native fishing-smack had appeared on the scene and was now tacking towards them only two hundred yards away. When they heard a faint, distant hail behind them it came as a shock mingled with positively stunning relief.

Switching round they saw the boat and their excitement, which had brought the Duke back to his body, was so great that they nearly lost their balance as they stood up to shout and signal in reply. The smack was quite a small one, manned by three Negroes, one of whom was standing up in the bows waving to them.

They had hardly grasped their good fortune at this prospect of an eleventh-hour rescue when they noticed that the motor-boat was some way behind the fishing-smack; it had now turned and was also coming towards them. Evidently the people in it had only just seen the castaways, their attention having been attracted to them by the cries of the Negro fishermen.

There followed an acutely anxious five minutes as de Richleau's party wondered if the now totally submerged plane would bear them just that little extra time necessary for their rescue before plunging to the sea-bed; but during it he was able to cheer his friends with the news that Simon and Philippa had reached the coast in safety. As the motor-boat came nearer they saw that it was a powerful launch. Racing past the smack, it circled round, driving the sharks away; then, easing down its engine so as not to capsize the plane with its wash, it came right alongside.

Its occupants were a very tall, bespectacled man, with Negro features but a pale skin, and his crew of four. The tall man wore a panama hat and was dressed in a suit of spotless white duck, so it looked as though he was a person of some standing.

As they were helped aboard the poor old plane bobbed up again a foot above the waterline, and seemed as if, now that it was relieved of their weight, it was good for another half-hour or so, although it had been in imminent danger of sinking when they were on it.

Gasping out their thanks to their rescuer they staggered into the blessed shade of the launch's cabin. They had spoken in English and the leader replied in a garbled mix of the same language.

‘Me very happy make you safe,' he said courteously. ‘You very bad ways. Them shark no good feller. Eat 'em up quick. Me Doctor Saturday, please. Very happy make you acquainted.'

‘Thanks a thousand times,' muttered de Richleau hoarsely. ‘
Parlez-vous français, Monsieur le docteur?
'

‘
Ah, oui; certainement,
' the tall man gave a quick smile which displayed two tombstone-like rows of very white teeth, and from that point the conversation was carried on in fluent French.

Realising that they would now soon be in Haiti, the Duke took the precaution of introducing himself and his friends under assumed names; then they told the Doctor that for the best part of two hours they had seen his launch and had been signalling to him. His distress at hearing this was evident and he was most profuse in his apologies, explaining that he and his crew had been engrossed in fishing for amber-jack. The first indication they had had of the wrecked plane was when they had heard the shouting of the Negro in the fishing-smack.

It had now come up with them, and Doctor Saturday threw this crew a handful of small change, which Richard supplemented with three twenty-dollar bills from his wallet as he felt that he and his friends really owed their lives to the fishermen—though that was obviously no fault of the Doctor's.

As the launch headed away on the Doctor's orders the fishermen, overwhelmed with the gift, which represented more than they could earn in a couple of months, babbled their thanks in their Creole dialect for as long as they could
keep within shouting distance.

The relief of the four castaways at their rescue was almost surpassed by their intense joy at being able to get out of the blistering sun, and as they sat down on the comfortable settees in the cabin they began tenderly to examine their burnt and blistered limbs.

Doctor Saturday looked at them gravely and said in his excellent French: ‘You've had a terrible gruelling in this hot Haitian sun of ours, and I'm afraid your burns will pain you for some days to come, but I can at least ease them for you.'

As he spoke he went to a cupboard and produced some cotton-wool and a large bottle of milky-looking liquid which, when they dabbed it on the sore places, instantly relieved the pain.

‘And next,' added the hospitable Doctor, ‘I expect you would like a drink.'

A chorus of approval met this suggestion so he opened a small ice-chest and produced whisky, rum, lemonade, lime-juice and some bottles of home made soda-water, then got glasses for them. The iced drinks tasted perfectly heavenly and they were at last able to relax after their terrible ordeal.

‘Where were you making for in your aeroplane?' asked the Doctor. ‘Porto Rico or Guadeloup?'

‘Neither,' replied Rex. ‘We ran right into some electrical disturbance when we were no more than twenty minutes' flying-time from our destination—we were heading for Port-au-Prince.'

‘Indeed!' Doctor Saturday raised the white eyebrows which stood out in such contrast to his yellow skin. ‘You surprise me. We have few European visitors to Haiti. Do you know the island at all?'

De Richleau replied swiftly so that he could get in his own version of the reason for their visit before the others spoke. ‘No. But I am a scientist whose subject is the study of native customs, and it has long been my wish to pay a short visit to Haiti to see what sort of a country the country peoples have made for themselves under a government of their own choosing.'

Doctor Saturday shook his head sadly. ‘I fear you will be disappointed in us. I do not believe that the Negroes are naturally an idle race, because they work well in cooler
climates such as that of the northern United States and of South Africa. But it has been their misfortune that they have lived mainly in countries where the heat is not conducive to hard work and where life may be sustained very easily from swiftly-growing crops and an abundance of fruit which has only to be gathered from the trees. The people here are incurably lazy—perhaps as a result of their environment. In any case, far from advancing in culture and prosperity, they have tended to slip backwards during the hundred-and-forty-odd years since the slaves revolted and became their own masters. Port-au-Prince is a poor sort of capital to have to show visitors.'

‘Do you live there, Doctor?' Marie Lou inquired.

‘Yes, Madame; so at least I shall have the good fortune of being able to convey you to your destination. I told my boatman to head back there with all speed directly I picked you up, but it will be some hours before we get in. Your plane crashed a good sixty miles from Port-au-Prince.'

‘That's a long way for you to have come on a fishing expedition,' remarked the Duke.

Doctor Saturday shrugged his high shoulders. ‘The fishing is much better out here. The fruit of the sea in its abundance is another blessing which God gave to our islanders; great numbers of them in the coast-towns live almost entirely on fish, so some of the better kinds no longer frequent coastal waters.'

‘Can you recommend a decent hotel in Port-au-Prince?' Richard asked, after a moment's silence.

‘There is only one,' Doctor Saturday showed his white teeth in another friendly grin, ‘and I would not like to be responsible for recommending it to people of quality like yourselves. The bar is quite good, and it forms an important social centre. Many of our leading politicians spend most of their time there, but the food in the restaurant is indifferent, and as its windows are on a level with the street some hungry fellow may, if you are not very careful, stretch his hand in and grab the food off your plate. That has often happened.'

‘Dear me,' said the Duke. ‘In that case I think we'd better take a house for ourselves.'

‘I was hoping,' said the Doctor, ‘that you would honour
me by being my guests during your stay. Cultured visitors are very rare in Haiti, and it would be a real pleasure to have you in my house; which is large, and even you, I think, would find it quite comfortable.'

That is most kind,' said the Duke with a little bow. I'm sure we should be delighted to accept for a night or two while we make some arrangements for ourselves, but we would not dream of burdening you any longer.'

‘I shall hope that you will reconsider that when you have been under my roof for those few days,' smiled the Doctor. ‘Also, you must let me arrange a few sight-seeing tours for you. Although our towns are poor places our scenery is very beautiful.'

‘I wonder whether it would be possible for us to witness some Voodoo ceremonies?' remarked the Duke, with the idea that by leading the conversation in this direction he might learn the names of the principal practitioners of Voodoo in the island, one of whom was unquestionably the enemy that he had travelled all these thousands of miles to destroy.

The Doctor raised his white eyebrows. ‘So you are interested in Voodoo, eh? But naturally, of course, since you are a student of native customs. Most educated people in Haiti would tell you that Voodoo is not practised here any more. Of the practice of Voodoo they are heartily ashamed, because they know that Europeans regard the cult as a barbarous one, so they would flatly deny that the sacrifice of chickens and goats to the old African gods still takes place. But as I myself am something of a scientist I realise the stupidity of denying anything which actually
exists, and the truth is that Haiti is positively riddled with Voodoo to this very day.'

‘Do tell us about it, Doctor,' urged Marie Lou.

As the boat sped on in the bright afternoon sunshine, the Doctor poured them a further round of drinks, passed them cigarettes and lit a long black cigar for himself.

‘Voodoo,' he said, ‘was brought over from Africa by the Mondongo natives when they were first imported here as slaves, nearly four hundred years ago. It is a form of serpent-worship, but in Voodoo there are two pantheons of Loa—as the gods are called—the Rada and the Petro.

‘When I say two pantheons I should explain that the Voodoo Loa are almost as numerous as the pebbles on the beaches. Apart from the big gods, every village in Haiti has a dozen or more local deities of its own who reside in the rocks, waterfalls, rivers and great trees. But, of the big gods whom all Voodoo-worshippers acknowledge, the Rada family, which came from Dahomey, are the good gods, and the Petro family, which came from the Congo, are the evil gods. The head of the Rada gods is Dambala, the God of Gods, and wherever there is an altar to him you will find a green serpent, which is his symbol. His principal supporters are Papa Legba, who is the God of the Gate and must always be propitiated before Dambala can be approached, and Papa Loco, the God of Wisdom and Medicine. The chief of the Petro gods is the dreaded Baron Cimeterre.'

‘The Lord of the Cemetery?' de Richleau hazarded.

The Doctor nodded and went on: ‘Many of the rites by which he is honoured are in connection with the dead, and his priests often interfere with the newly-made graves in the cemeteries to secure certain things which they use in their horrible rituals. There is, however, nothing evil in the worship of the Rada gods; they represent the oldest mystery of all: that of the source of life as represented by sex.

‘To Europeans some of the ceremonies—such as the Dance of the Six Veils, which is analogous to the nuptial flight of the Queen Bee and in which the Mambo, or Priestess, exposes her sexual organs for the adoration of the worshippers—are crude; but regarded honestly and without false hypocrisy these rituals only express the joy of healthy passion.'