The Island Where Time Stands Still (13 page)

During her two years' semi-seclusion she had amused herself by learning English and reading books about the world beyond the ocean; and, as she was unusually intelligent, her father had been so impressed with the knowledge she acquired that he had agreed to let her continue her studies for a further year. At eighteen her will and reasoning powers had developed to such an extent that she had the temerity to argue when he began seriously to press her on the subject of marriage. For another year the battle had gone on, and, at the end of it old Sze Hsüan had come to accept the fact that even if Heaven had denied him a son it had sent him a daughter who could fill a son's place in all but the matter of the ancestral rites. Her mother had died when she was still a child; so he had made her the head of his household and now secretly hoped that she would never marry.

As Gregory soon gathered, the prospects of her doing so were becoming increasingly slender. It was not that she lacked physical attractions. She had a tall, willowy figure and moved gracefully. Her black hair was glossy and abundant, her eyes lively with intelligence, and her teeth two even rows of dazzling ivory. But by Chinese standards she was no longer a girl, and her mental attainments made her relatively so much older than she in fact was, that to her contemporaries she appeared to be verging on middle-age.

In due course Gregory met her sisters, their husbands and a number of other young people who came to the house. The women were most decorative and charming, but childlike and obviously just a little frightened that they might make fools of themselves while conversing with the learned A-lu-te. The men clearly respected her but never attempted to be in the least flirtatious, and it seemed as if they did not even think of her as a pretty young woman. Cynically, Gregory
reflected that her simple laughter-loving sisters were far happier than ever she could be, and it was the very fact that she had developed her brain which debarred her from the full enjoyment of life. By eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge she had acquired a discontent with the carefree existence of the island, and was no longer suited to become the wife of one of its nobility.

Most of the men visitors could speak English fairly fluently, or had a smattering of it and could speak French or German well; so Gregory was able to talk freely with them; but none of the women spoke anything but Chinese. In consequence, from constantly hearing the latter tongue, the little ‘Mandarin' he had picked up as a young man soon came back to him, and he began to practise speaking it again with A-lu-te as his teacher.

The days passed pleasantly enough, and it was for him as though he now lived in a world that was not quite real. Something seemed to have died in him with Erika, and he simply accepted the routine that had been set for him without thinking about it. As the island was only eight degrees south of the Equator, the change in its seasons was scarcely perceptible. The hours of sunrise and sunset varied little, and all the year round cool night breezes refreshed it, keeping its climate pleasant apart from the blistering heat of midday, during which everyone slept. Almost the only indication of the changing seasons was the growth of crops and some variety in the flowers that from year's end to year's end made the gardens gay.

Gradually he came to know all the Mandarins and principal officials of the island. On account of his extensive travels and wide general knowledge, they enjoyed talking to him. He showed no desire whatever to leave the island and at times expressed admiration for the way in which it was administered; so they began to regard him almost as one of themselves and treated him in the most friendly manner.

The wreck had occurred early in March and it was mid-June when, one morning as Gregory was tying up a Bougainvillaea along a trellis, A-lu-te came running out of the
house to tell him that a wireless message had been received from Kâo Hsüan. The yacht was approaching home waters and would dock that evening.

Elaborate arrangements had already been made for the reception of the Princess. Practically the whole population of the island was to welcome her as she stepped ashore, and the members of the Seven Families, arrayed in their most gorgeous garments, were to be presented to her by Kâo Hsüan. The Pings, the Wongs, the Sungs and the rest had entered on a cheerful rivalry for the distinction of presenting the most splendid turn-out, and every woman among them would wear her finest jewels for the occasion.

Having told Gregory the exciting news, A-lu-te hurried back indoors to superintend the final preparations of her father's household; but, some ten minutes later, she came out again. He was still arranging the brilliant-hued creeper and as she called to him he noticed that her voice had lost its cheerfulness. Turning he saw that her walk was no longer quick and buoyant, and that she had a set frown on her face.

‘What's wrong?' he inquired.

‘Another runner has just arrived from the palace,' she replied, still frowning. ‘The first was dispatched to let us know at once that the yacht would reach port this evening; but he had only half my Uncle Kâo's message. The Princess is not on board.'

He shrugged. ‘You did say yourself that if you lived in the United States nothing on earth would induce you to take the job; and, after all, there was always a possibility that young Josephine might refuse it.'

‘What I said was not meant to be taken seriously,' A-lu-te replied with an indignant expression. ‘Had I been of her lineage I should have felt compelled to accept from a sense of duty; and the possibility that after a few years here she might hanker to return to America has no bearing on the matter. How could any girl who had this island described to her for the first time, and was offered its sovereignty, possibly resist the glamour of becoming the central figure in such a fairy-tale—above all one who is dumb and, apparently,
has been leading more or less the life of a Cinderella? It never even occurred to anyone here that she would refuse. I consider it most extraordinary.'

That evening it transpired that the Princess had not refused. She had never been asked. But for Kâo Hsüan to communicate with the island from the mainland would have given its existence away; so he had had to wait until he got back there to make his report. It was brief and, up to a point, perfectly straightforward, but, after that, it suddenly developed into a problem wrapped in mystery.

Soon after his arrival in San Francisco he had gone to call on the Princess's mother, but had done no more on that occasion than assure himself that the two ladies were in good health. On taking his leave he had said that he would wait upon her again in a few days' time. He had then gone to a soothsayer to find out the earliest date upon which it would be propitious to carry out the object of his mission. The soothsayer had told him five days hence. On the fifth day he had gone to the apartment again but found only the daily woman in occupation, and that she was greatly upset. Apparently on the previous day Madame Août had been knocked down by a car, seriously injured and taken to hospital. As soon as Josephine had learned of the accident she had hurried to her mother's bedside. Her failure to return had been put down to her having either remained at the hospital or spent the night with friends. But inquiries next morning elicited the fact that Madame Août had died without regaining consciousness and that on being told, the grief-stricken girl had accepted sympathetic ministrations for only half an hour. She had then insisted on leaving the hospital and from that moment she had completely disappeared.

Kâo had then hoped that after suffering a temporary aberration from grief she would reappear to attend her mother's funeral; but she did not do so, and he had spent the next fortnight using his utmost endeavours to find out what had become of her. He had traced as many of the Août's acquaintances as he could and questioned them, sought the
help of the police, and spent a considerable sum consulting every soothsayer in San Francisco's Chinatown, all to no avail. Josephine Août had vanished utterly, and there was not even the suggestion of a clue to her movements after she left the hospital. Feeling now that the odds were on an excess of grief having caused the Princess to take her own life in some secluded spot where her body had not yet been discovered, and knowing how puzzled and anxious the Council would become if he delayed his return overlong, Kâo had then decided that he had better come back and report the sad failure of his mission.

As was to be expected, his news resulted in another wave of pessimistic speculation sweeping through the Seven Families. For the best part of two months the decision of the Mandarins, that the Princess should be sent for to choose an Emperor from one of their families, had seemed an inspired solution to the problem with which they were faced. Now they were back where they had started, and they murmured despondently that, unless some other way of selecting an Emperor could be agreed, they would be subjected to all the evils resulting from intrigue, bribery, and finally a
coup d'état
by which one of their number would arbitrarily seize power over them.

But the Council proved unwilling to give up without a struggle the idea which had met with such universal approbation. Several of its members argued that since there was no proof of the Princess's death there was a very good chance that she was still alive. The majority agreed, and a decision was taken that everything that money could do should be done in an effort to trace her. Kâo Hsüan was ordered to return to San Francisco, and at the Mandarin Tsai-Ping's request it was agreed that he should go too.

It was on the second morning after Kâo's return that A-lu-te told Gregory of this new decision. In the course of the day he saw little of her, and during such brief conversations as they had she seemed unusually preoccupied. It was after dark, and he was contemplating turning in, when she
again came, with Madame Pan-chieh panting along behind her, across the garden to his little pavilion.

‘They have agreed! I have got my way!' she cried, her voice vibrant with excitement, as soon as she saw him stir among the shadows.

He had as usual at this hour been thinking of Erika. Bringing his thoughts back reluctantly to the present he asked with a shade of annoyance, ‘What are you talking about?'

‘I'm going to San Francisco! I'm going with Uncle Kâo!' Her white teeth flashed and her words came tumbling out. ‘When he went before they were counting on the Princess's mother to come back with her. Now, if we can find her, she will be alone. At least, there'll be no woman with her suitable to act as her companion on the voyage. The Council had to agree that it would not be right for her to travel in a ship with only men. It's true! It's true! I've got my way, and I'm going to America.'

‘I'm so glad.' Gregory smiled, now fully roused from his morbid musings. ‘I know how much this means to you, and I'm delighted that you have managed to pull it off.' Then, after a moment, he added politely, ‘What I shall do while you are away I can't think. I shall miss you tremendously.'

‘Oh, no, you won't!' She gave a sudden laugh.

‘I assure you that I shall,' he insisted.

‘No!' she laughed again. ‘I have my own theory about what has happened to the Princess Josephine. She may be dead or out of her mind; but she could equally well have been kidnapped by either the Nationalists or the Communists to be used as a pawn in their game. If I am right, getting her back is going to be a very dangerous undertaking. I have done my utmost to re-animate in you the vital spark that went out when you lost your wife, and I've failed. But I am determined to do it yet, and for a man of your type the one thing that might bring it back is danger. I have the Council's consent to take you with me!'

Gregory hardly knew whether to feel pleased or sorry at this surprising announcement. For him, even more than for the majority of its inhabitants, the island was a place where Time stood still. They were protected by their isolation from having their lives disrupted into contrasting periods by wars, changes of government, unemployment, or even voluntary removals to new localities and taking holidays abroad; but he was in addition immune from any personal happenings which would have made a landmark in his life. He had no worries concerning love, health or money, no ambition to satisfy, no problems to solve. One day followed another with the same placid routine and he was content to have things so. A return to the outer world meant encountering innumerable sights and sounds which would inevitably remind him of his loss. On the other hand he admitted to himself that in recent weeks, while not in A-lu-te's company, he had been vaguely conscious of an increasing sense of boredom.

However, his first definite reaction was amazement that the Council should even have considered trusting him to keep their secrets while participating in such a mission; and he said so to A-lu-te.

She shrugged. ‘You underrate them as psychologists. Now that they have had an opportunity to get to know you they have a high regard for you. They have formed the opinion that you are a man of integrity, so would not betray us wantonly.'

‘Within certain limits I am.' The furrows round the corner
of Gregory's mouth deepened in a cynical smile, as he added, ‘But it would be rash for anyone who had done me an ill turn to bank on that.'

‘I can well believe you,' she retorted promptly. ‘Still, it was argued that we had given you no cause to regard us as enemies, and that you had nothing to gain by telling anyone our secrets.'

‘Once in the United States, what is to stop my refusing to return?'

‘Nothing; except your oath of service to me, and the fact that I have gone surety for you. Such a possibility was, of course, considered; but it was felt that even should you decide to barter your conscience for your liberty there would still be no incentive for you to disclose that life in this island differs from that in any other on which you might have been washed up.'