Wealth of the Islands (24 page)

“
Are you sure the typhoon isn
’
t coming?
”
she asked the Polynesians.

They shook their heads.
“
There is time yet,
”
they said in unison.

Helen wasn
’
t entirely convinced. The breeze was rippling the surface of the water now, chasing a thousand tiny waves in patterns over the sea. It was coming, she knew that. There was not a bird to be seen, not even the usual friendly gulls who squawked overhead wherever the
Sweet Promise
went. She watched as Gregory slipped into the water beside her and knew that he was worried too.

“
We shall have to hurry,
”
she almost pleaded with him.

He nodded, not wasting the time to talk.
“
Is everything ready
?”

Helen signalled to Na-Tinn to turn on the light and through the water they could see the frigate light up down below them, revealing the grey shadowy sides and the great hole that had been cut in her side. There were no fish to be seen. They had already taken cover from the great storm that was to come.

Gregory nodded again and struck out for the depths. In the water, one could barely see that he had been injured. He sank as easily as ever, going ahead first for the bottom. Helen adjusted her breathing gear and followed him. It was a peculiar feeling, swimming through the gently stirring waters towards the
cu
t-up wreck, with its barnacled bottom and its nose crushed into the coral shelf that held it.

Gregory looked calm, almost indifferent, through his mask. He pointed towards the hole in the frigate and picked up one of the portable lights she had rigged up for this very moment. He held it out to her, and she took it, swathing the yards of flex over her
s
houlder so that she could pay it out, foot, by foot, as they ventured deep inside the frigate.

The swell in the water was rising rapidly and she could hear the hull of the wreck grating against the coral shelf. Her heart beat so rapidly that she could feel her pulse against the rubber straps of her face mask. She was sweating with fear, but her hands didn
’
t tremble, she noticed proudly. She was holding that light as steady as if she had had both feet planted on mother earth! The next moment was going to be the worst one, when she saw Gregory pull himself inside the frigate and she would have to follow him, carrying the light.

The actuality wasn
’
t as bad as she had thought it would be. It was as black as ink inside, with only the single beam from the light to cast strange, grey shadows wherever she looked. But she no longer believed in strange monsters, or squids as big as whales waiting for her in one of the forsaken cabins. Now that the moment was actually upon her, she was quite interested in the ship and the curious, rather sad remnants of her former life that were still intact.

They knew exactly where they were going from the plan of the frigate that Gregory had set out in the saloon of the
Sweet Promise.
In a way it detracted from their exploration of the ghostly insides of the ship, for it was all so exactly as they had thought it would be. They could find their way unerringly from one cabin to another, from wardroom to wardroom, and down to the engines.

The crunching noise of the metal against the coral shelf was muffled by the sides of the ship, but it was loud enough to give them an increasing sense of urgency as they tried to get through to the captain
’
s cabin. The door had fallen shut and it was a hard struggle to pull it open against the weight of the water, but Gregory finally managed it, wedging himself against the roof of the corridor outside.

He held the door open and waved her to go in first. Helen held the light up as high as she could and peered through the gloom into the small space
which was the goal of the whole operation. The ship lurched ominously beneath their feet
.
Oh, hurry, hurry, Helen prayed. If the ship were to be rocked off the
s
helf now with them inside her, they would never get out alive. They
must hurry
!

Gregory pointed to a small safe that was fastened into the wall of the cabin and Helen
’
s heart sank. They would never get it open, and they would never
retrieve the gold. But she reckoned without Gregory
’
s: determination. He had picked up from somewhere a bar of solid iron and with this he attacked the safe as if his life depended on it. He managed to get a
corner
of the bar wedged into a crack between the safe and the wall and with a quite horrid groaning sound, the safe came free and sank into the gloomy waters.

Helen pointed the light downwards, caught a glimpse of the precious safe, and hooked it up with her free hand. Gregory gave her a thumbs-up signal and they shot out of the cabin as fast as they could go, retracing their way back the way they had come.

Helen thought that
s
he would never have such a feeling of relief as she experienced when they saw the hole in the side of the frigate before them. Even as they crawled out on to the coral shelf they could feel the swelling currents around them. Gregory looked round anxiously and saw that the nose of the frigate had already worked free. Without pausing even to make sure that Helen still had the safe in, her hand, he threw the light away from her and grabbed her hand, pulling her up to the surface behind him.

Beneath them, the frigate rolled restlessly, rocking against the coral shelf and breaking off large hunks of the pretty, fragile substance, built out of the millions and millions of skeletons left behind by the tiny creatures who had once lived there. Then, almost sucking them down with her, the frigate rose
and fell slowly into the bottomless depths below the shelf.

It was a sad ending. Helen hardly noticed when Gregory took the safe from her. Her eyes stung with unshed tears and she could barely see out of her mask. It was only then that she realised that
s
he had surfaced and that she didn
’
t have to hold her breath any longer. She pulled off her mask and spat out the mouthpiece, breathing in the soft, salty air as though she had never breathed fresh air before.

Na-Tinn waved at her excitedly, almost falling off the deck.

“
You have it! You have it!
”
he screamed.

“
We have the safe,
”
Gregory Shouted to him.
“
We
’
ve yet to find out if the gold is inside!
”

But nothing could depress their spirits just then. They dragged the equipment on board with willing hands, leaving it in a dripping, tangled mess of wires, lights, cylinders and collapsed buoys, all over the deck. The wind was quite fresh by now. It was strange how quickly it had come up. It was hard to believe that it was hardly an hour since it had been so still and ca
l
m that the sea had looked more like a painting than real. It was real enough now, with the waves, though not yet big, rolling ominously as a warning of what was to come.

Gregory took one look at Helen and sent her down below.
“
It
’
ll be blowing up quite a storm before we can make harbour,
”
he warned her.
“
You
’
d better stay down there and keep warm.
”

“
And you?
”
Helen asked him, aware that he was limping badly now and that his leg must be paining him badly.

“
I
’
ll come as soon as we
’
ve got the sails up. We
’
ll have to take a reef in the mainsail, but Na-Tinn can go up aloft. I
’
ve had it!
”

There was no need to tell the Polynesian sailors that Gregory was tired. They eased him into the
cockpit, cracking jokes to each other to cover up their concern for him.
“
Soon be plenty wind to carry us home,
”
Taine-Mal said gaily. He began to hum the tune that Helen had been singing earlier, a broad grin on his face.

Gregory held on to the wheel until they were well
cle
ar of the reef and scuttling through the uncertain wind for home. Then he went below, to join Helen.

“Have you got the safe open yet?” he asked her.

“I haven’t tried,” she answered. “Now, I’ve heated up some soup. Do you want some?”

“I’d rather have some coffee or tea, but I suppose, soup is all we’ve got?”

Helen chuckled. “I didn’t think we had that!” she said.

S
he set the two mugs on the table and filled them with the boiling liquid in the saucepan. The mugs slid across the table and back again, reminding them of the weather outside.

“
Will we get back in time?
”
Helen asked, trying to keep her voice as steady as her hand.

Gregory
’
s eyes met hers.
“
I don
’
t know,
”
he admitted frankly.
“
Even if we do, we
’
ll really
feel the swell before we get into harbour. Are you a good sailor, Helen?
”

She smiled.
“
I pride myself on it,
”
she
answered. They laughed together and Helen felt better. The
Sweet Promise
was a strongly made vessel, even if she could do with a fresh coat of paint, and she had confidence that if anyone could sail her through a typhoon, that person would be Gregory de Vaux!
“
Shall we get the safe open?
”
she
suggested.
“
I
’
d love to see if the gold really is inside!
”

“
It looks a pretty solid job,
”
Gregory said doubtfully.
“
We may have to get a safe-cracker on the job. I don
’
t know if bas
h
ing it will do much good.
”

“
We can try,
”
she pleaded.
“
Here, have a go with these knives!
”

There were traces of rust on the back of the safe. The tell-tale red stains spread out from a spot in the centre, under the encrusted surface of the metal. In places, a layer or two of the metal had disappeared entirely, but what was left was as solid as ever and would probably have stood up to a pick-axe, let alone their futile attemp
t
s with a couple of kitchen knives.

“
I
’
m going to see what
’
s happening,
”
Gregory said.
“
I think I
’
ll drop the sails and carry on with the engine. The wind
’
s getting up properly now.
”

If the slant of the decks was anything to go by, Helen thought they must have been bouncing around like a cork. When she tried to stand up, she felt decidedly queasy, so she sat down again quickly, and busied herself with the opening mechanism of the safe. It had rusted hard, and she couldn
’
t even move the numbers round, but with a little oil and a lot of prodding and scraping with her knife, she managed to wrench it free. She couldn
’
t read the numbers any longer, but she could hear the clicks as she turned the knob and reckoned that it was more or less intact.

The
Sweet Promise
groaned beneath the weight of the wind. Helen could hear Gregory yelling at Na-Tinn and a second later the engine back-fired into life. It was a strange sensation listening to the propellors fighting the swollen seas, sometimes a couple of fathoms below the surface of the waves, sometimes running free in nothing but air. The wind wrenched, buffeted and tossed them hither and thither with increasing agitation. A trickle of water came down the companionway, staining the floor and giving Helen a fright. She rushed round the cabins, making sure that all the portholes were secure, fighting her way across floors that would not lie down.

Wedged between the table and the bunk she was sitting on, Helen could just about keep her balance.

She found herself waiting for the dip and rise again of the bows, scarcely
daring to breathe herself except in the same agonising rhythm. After a while she couldn
’
t stand it any longer and thought she would go up on deck with the others, to reassure herself that she was no longer alone in this perilous world.

She was thrown backwards down the steps, but at her second attempt she gained the hatch and pulled herself up into the full terror of the storm above. Gregory was at the wheel. She could see the muscles of his arms and back bulging as they took the strain of keeping
Sweet Promise
more or less on her course. Somehow, afterwards she couldn
’
t remember how she had done it, he crawled into the cockpit beside him and wedged herself into the small space between the wheel and the side of the boat.

“
Get back below!
”
he roared at her.

She shook her head.
“
It
’
s better up here!
”
she shouted into the wind.

“
That
’
s a good one!
”

“
No, truly! It
’
s horrid being alone!
”

He laughed and the wind caught the sound and roared its own approval.
“
We haven
’
t far to go now,
”
he comforted her.

She hung on to the edge of the rail and glanced about her, hoping to see some landmark that would be familiar. She was astonished to find that they were indeed nearly home. The harbour welcomed them with open arms, a haven of comparative peace in the middle of the howling wind. The palm trees were bent almost double and there was no sign of anyone on the Island. The flattened grass was to
rn
out at the roots and whole clods
w
ere taken up by the wind and battered against the whining trees
.
It was a frightening sight.

And then it began to rain. Great drops of water fell on them from the sky, stinging their eyes and drenching them to the skin. The downpour closed in round
them and they could hardly see the harbour for whirling rain and sea. Helen saw Gregory grit his teeth as
he set the
Sweet Promise
to tear her way through the entrance to the harbour, holding on to the wheel with everything he had. For a moment, she thought they
were crashing into the containing reef, but they rose higher and higher on the crest of some enormous wave and shot through the opening, crashing down into the furrow of the wave about fifty feet inside the lagoon. They were home.

When they came in beside the jetty, Helen saw why the Polynesians were renowned the world over for their sailing abilities. Na-Tinn tied a rope around his waist, waited for his chance and then hurled himself into space, landing in a helpless jangle of limbs on the fragile jetty. He was on his feet in a trice, putting his whole weight behind the rope to try and hold the dancing boat. When he had more or less recovered his balance, Taine-Mal followed him on to the jetty, leaping high above the breaking waves. He lost hi
s
footing on the wet bamboo,
s
lipped between the edge of the jetty and the oncoming boat and disappeared into the boiling water. Helen
’
s first instinct was to go to his aid, but there was nothing that she could do to help him. She stared down into the froth and grey-green water,
but there was no sign of Taine-Mal
’
s dark head. Then she saw him on the other side of the
Sweet Promise,
his head bobbing up and down. He took an enormous breath of air and dived down again into the water, reappearing alongside the jetty. He glanced round
behind him, waited, tense and anxious, for the next wave to carry him right up on to the jetty. He came
out of the water like a penguin rising from the sea on to a handy rock, and made fast the rope.

It was obvious that the jetty was about to break up. The wind tore at the bamboo struts and the heavy rain beat down on it with a weight it had never been designed to withstand.

“
We
’
ll have to drag the
Sweet Promise
further in,
”
Gregory said bitterly.
“
Take her up the creek!
”

“
There isn
’
t enough water,
”
Helen protested.

“
There is now,
”
he retorted grimly.
“
Get busy battening everything down, and I
’
ll get the lads to haul us up between those trees.
”

It took a long time. They secured as many lines as they could to the surrounding trees, trying not to think how easily the wind could uproot these giant palms. Gregory did what he could to protect the sides and top of the boat by covering her with a cradle of branches and leaves.

“
She
’
ll have to do,
”
he said at last. His leg was bleeding slightly and the material of his trousers had stuck to the long line of his wound. It had been a long, long day.
“
Have you got the safe?
”
he asked Helen.

She held it up in a triumphant gesture. It was heavier than she had remembered and
she
could hardly stand up with the wind blowing her this way and that. She dropped to her knees and the safe landed with a thud in the mud beside her.