Hammond Innes - Solomons Seal

‘Queen Carola Harbour in the north-west of Buka. The Co-operative takes them on from there.’

‘Yes, but who gets them in the end?’

‘How the hell do I know?’

I glanced at Perenna again, but still she didn’t say anything, her eyes avoiding mine, as she drew nervously on her cigarette, inhaling deeply. ‘So you don’t care where they’re going.’ I had turned back to her brother. ‘Or even what they’ll be used for?’

He shook his head as though to push that thought aside. ‘There were fuel bills,’ he muttered. ‘I told you. And the yard — the engine overhaul cost more than I thought.’ And then, still trying to justify himself: ‘Hans has always co-operated with the indigenes.’ He was looking across at his sister again. ‘He’s very close to them, so close that sometimes-’ He shrugged. ‘Well, you know his background. He’s almost one of them.’

‘He came to see Tim.’ Her voice sounded strained, a little wild. ‘I wrote you about it. At the end of May.’

‘Of course he came to see you. He was in England, and the accident happened on a coaster he’d chartered, so naturally-’

‘Don’t you ever read my letters? Tim was getting better, slowly. He was winning. And then suddenly there was no will left. He just seemed to give up. Hans was with him for the better part of an hour, and it was after that-’

‘For God’s sake, Perenna! You’re letting your imagination run away with you.’

‘Am I? Don’t you see what Hans is? A child of four hidden in thick forest under Mount Bei until the war was over, then brought up in Lemankoa by that man Sapuru. Red hair and a white skin, but underneath he’s Buka through and through. Grandpa saw that, why the hell can’t you?’

‘The Old Man was prejudiced. He thought Hans hated him. God knows he’d every reason-’

‘Why?’ She was leaning forward, her eyes fixed on him. ‘Why should Hans hate him?’

‘His father was killed during the war.’

‘Lots of people got killed in the war.’

‘He was killed in a raid on Carola Harbour. His schooners were based there, and it was the Old Man who led the raiding party.’

She stared at him a moment, then nodded. ‘I see.’ She said it huskily, her voice barely audible. ‘So that’s why he wouldn’t talk about it.’ And she added in a whisper, ‘Now I begin to understand.’

‘I hope you do. Red Holland was a collaborator, but from his son’s point of view — well, if it were my father who’d been killed …’ He left it at that, leaning forward and continuing quickly, ‘So don’t go on about Hans. And stop imagining things. He’s been very helpful.’

‘What about the guns?’ I asked.

He glanced at me, suddenly reminded of my presence. ‘I told you. That cargo belongs to the Buka Trading Co-operative.’ And then he had turned back to his sister, taking up where he had left off: ‘Hans helped found the Co-operative. He’s provided most of the finance and given it proper commercial direction. I admire him for that. Some return for their having saved his life during the war and looked after him until he was old enough to go to school in Australia.’

‘And you admire him?’

‘Yes. Yes, in some ways I do.’ And then, soothingly: ‘It’s just a trading organisation, Perenna. Nothing else. And it makes sense for us to have a close association with it. No white company can survive in the islands without being involved locally. Not any longer. It’s a matter of politics.’ He turned to me. ‘It’s happening all over the world. So why not in the Solomons? Don’t you agree?’

‘Trade is one thing,’ I said, ‘but guns-’

‘Governments deal in guns, don’t they? Your government, every government — they’re up to their necks in the arms trade. Just because I have to get them secretly, off an open beach, what’s the difference?’

‘Cargo,’ Perenna said. ‘That’s the difference. It’s Cargoism.’

He turned on her angrily. ‘Now don’t start on that again. What happened when you were last at Madehas was quite different. I know how you feel, but this is strictly a business proposition. It’s got nothing to do with the Cargo cult.’

‘The Hahalis Welfare Society called it “bisnis”,’ she said wearily. And then, leaning towards him: ‘I’ve never been able to ask you this to your face, but when Tim was sent to Buka, was it to deal with a new outbreak of Cargoism?’ He didn’t say anything, the silence seeming to last a long time. ‘Well, was it? I asked you in letters, but you never replied …’ She was staring at him, and he sat there, eyes fixed dumbly on his glass. ‘I see. First Mother and me, then Tim. But now it’s “bisnis”, nothing else — and two trucks full of guns.’ She stubbed out her cigarette, getting slowly to her feet.

I thought she had finally made up her mind and was going to tell him that if he didn’t dump them overboard, she’d notify the authorities. He seemed to think the same, for he started to tell her again that trading in arms wasn’t very different from trading in any other commodity. And then his voice trailed away as he saw her standing there with a look of contempt on her face. Then suddenly, without a word, she turned and left the cabin.

He didn’t say anything for a while, sitting motionless, his head in his hands. At length he finished his drink and looked up at me, an effort at a wry smile as he said, ‘That’s why I didn’t want her out here. She’s very emotional and last time she was at Madehas … you know about that, do you?’ I nodded, and he went on, ‘She’s right. It was Cargoism then. And when Tim was injured, that was Cargoism, too. But this is different. The Buka Trading Co-operative is just like any other co-operative anywhere in the world, entirely commercial. Those guns are being shipped to make a profit, and they’ll be passed on to some dealer, a friend probably of one of the traders at Chinaman’s Quay in the Buka Passage. They’ll finish up somewhere in South East Asia, I imagine. It’s just a business deal.’

‘And Teopas?’ I asked. ‘Where does he come into it?’

‘He’s only looking after the Co-operative’s interest. It’s run by a man called Sapuru. Teopas comes from the same village.’ He glanced at his watch and got to his feet. ‘You shouldn’t have let Perenna persuade you to check the contents of those cases. The crew are mostly Buka men, and monkeying around with Cooperative cargo makes them suspicious. Just stick to navigation in future.’ And he left me to go on watch.

Neither of them had offered me a drink, so I helped myself, drinking it, standing there and wondering about the Hollands, what the hell was going to happen. I had two small whiskies, then I went to my cabin, half expecting to find her there. But it was empty, and in a way I was glad. I was too damned tired. The questions could wait for the morning.

They were talking about it when I went in to breakfast shortly after eight, Shelvankar saying, ‘How was I to know it is not what it says on the manifest?’ And Holtz shaking his head and muttering, ‘It had to be something bad, but I never thought he would be such a bloody fool … ’ He checked at the sight of me, selfconsciously burying his face in his cup.

I sat down to an awkward silence. ‘Is Captain Holland still on watch?’ I asked, and Holtz nodded. ‘Where’s Luke then?’

He didn’t say anything, both of them sitting very still, watching me. My breakfast arrived, and I ate in silence. ‘The forecast is good,’ Shelvankar said. Silence again, an uneasy sense of waiting.

Then Luke appeared. ‘They don’t let me go near the trucks.’

‘How many of them?’ Holtz asked.

‘Four, five, I not sure. They say nothing to do with me. Is their Cargo.’ He hesitated, his eyes flitting nervously. Nobody said anything. Finally he turned to the door. ‘I tell Kepten. Buka men very funny about Cargo.’