Hammond Innes - Solomons Seal

It was the end of any hope I might have had of taking over the running of the ship and trying to make the Holland Line profitable. And it had been profitable until Hans had started undercutting the two coasters Jona had originally operated with his more economical, more practical ramp-propelled lighters.

It was the end of the Holland Line, and for Perenna a bitter blow. She felt it much more than Jona, for whom the Line meant very little. It was only the ship that mattered to him, and even that wasn’t very important since he didn’t anticipate any great difficulty in getting command of a vessel belonging to one of the major shipping companies, which would have the advantage that he would no longer have to worry about the business side.

The day I left for Australia we drove down to Kieta early in the morning, just before sunrise when the world was still fresh, and walked along the beach hand-in-hand under the palm trees. All the eastern horizon was a blaze of red, and against this flaming dawn sky the slab-sided, boxlike shape of the LCT rose black in shadow, a cut-out silhouette of a ship, the sea so still and red it might have been molten lava.

She was an ugly vessel. At least I suppose she was, being totally functional, with no concessions to anything other than the purpose for which she had been designed. But to me she had the beauty of an unattainable dream. I don’t know whether it was the dream or the ship I had come down to say goodbye to, but there it all was — a ship of my own and a line to run … and I was taking the flight to Port Moresby later that day.

For Perenna it was much more than the end of a dream, and she was in tears as we stood looking at the familiar shape of the little vessel standing so clear-cut against that translucent sunrise sky. And then the red elliptical curve of the sun’s rim inched up over the horizon right behind her, so that the shape of her became framed in the thrusting orb and Perenna gasped in astonishment, for it appeared as though she were being consumed in fire. I could feel her fingers digging into my hand, sensed her feelings that the ship represented something that had been a part of her all her life. That was all that remained of the trading schooners, the old post-war coasters and MFVs, the long line of vessels stretching back three-quarters of a century to the Holland Trader , and in a few weeks’ time it would go for scrap … ‘Carlos, my grandfather, Jona, us’ — her grip on my hand had tightened, her voice more husky than usual — ‘Red Holland, too, I suppose — Carlos in a new guise — and Hans.’ She paused, thinking back to her childhood. ‘Mac, all those skippers — I can’t remember their names now, there must have been half a dozen of them — and the crews. So many people, all involved in keeping the islands supplied and taking their crops to market. And now it’s finished — up for sale. Scrap.’ There was a catch in her voice as she said that final word and she let go of my hand, turning abruptly away.

Halfway to the car, in command of herself again, she said in a small, tight voice, ‘When I came on board, that first day, in the evening, standing in the wheelhouse — I watched you at the chart table, working out our position — I thought then, knowing something of your background, conscious of the way you had dealt with those stamps and got money out to me when I needed it, I thought, This is the man to get the Holland Line on its feet again.’

‘Is that why you fell into my bunk?’ I said it lightly, an attempt to lift her out of her mood, though deep down I was hurt, knowing there was a calculating streak in most women.

She stopped, turning on me quickly. ‘Don’t be silly, Roy. It’s just that I never thought to fall in love with a man who could match my own background — my own needs, if you like. Not physical, I don’t mean that … ’ Her voice trailed away. ‘I’m not putting it very well.’

‘You’re putting it very clearly.’ Suddenly I wanted to hurt her, test her reaction, and I couldn’t stop myself. ‘You wanted a man with certain business and technical expertise to put the Holland Line back in business. You think I’m the man, so you fall in love with me — to order.’

She looked at me, her lips trembling, the scar over her left ear white in the sun’s blaze. I thought she was going to burst into tears. Instead, she suddenly gave that explosive little laugh. ‘If that’s what you want to believe, maybe it’s true. Maybe women do fall in love — to order, as you put it — when they meet a man they think can turn their hopes into reality.’ And she added, ‘It’s as good a basis for mating as any, very practical.’ She turned and walked quickly back to the car.

But later, when she drove me to the airport, her mood had softened again, and it was I who was thinking about the future. All morning I hadn’t been able to get the sight of those ships out of my mind, and now, standing in the shade of the airport building, waiting to board the Fokker Friendship shimmering out there in the hot sun, I told her about my arrangement with Chips Rowlinson. ‘As soon as the sale is over, I’ll have some idea what my ten per cent of the increased value of the property will amount to. It won’t be enough, but I should be able to borrow the rest of it on the scrap value of the ship.’

She stared at me unbelievingly. ‘Are you serious? You’re ready to throw everything you hope to get … ’ She was suddenly laughing, almost crying, her arms round my neck, her lips on mine. ‘Darling! You’re incredible. I love you.’ Everybody was staring at us, passengers, ground crew, everybody, white teeth bright in the dark faces.

They looked as though they were about to cheer as I took hold of her arms rather self-consciously and said, ‘There are conditions.’

She leaned her head back, her hair in the sun now and shining like fire, her eyes narrowing against the glare. ‘What conditions?’

‘First, that I take over the business management of the company. And get paid for it. I’m looking for a job, remember. Second, that the company is re-organised, and only those who put new money into it hold shares. Third, you contribute anything more you get from the sale of the Carlos Holland stamp collection.’ I didn’t tell her about the single sheet of the Solomons Seal labels in my briefcase, and I warned her that I might make nothing out of the Munnobungle sale, and even if I did get something out of it, it might not be enough and I might not be able to raise the rest of the money. ‘So just keep your fingers crossed. Oh, and there’s another condition,’ I told her as the boarding announcement was made and I kissed her goodbye. ‘You and the LCT go together. Is that understood?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she called after me.

‘That we get married,’ I said, waving to her as I joined the passengers moving out to board the aircraft. And as we turned at the runway end, I could just see the brightness of her hair moving through a crowd of islanders to the parking lot.

Next day I was in Brisbane, and Cooper was facing me with a decision I didn’t want to take. He had received two offers for Munnobungle. The first, from a neighbouring station owner on the Burdekin, had been made shortly after I had sailed for Bougainville. The second was from an agricultural company and was the result of his having advertised the sale. Both offers were close to the figure he had thought the property should fetch. The private buyer had now matched the company’s offer so that I had the choice of two certain buyers at a price that would put almost $9,000 in my pocket. Just enough, I thought, to make up the difference between the amount the Holland Line owed and the loan I could expect to raise on the scrap value of the ship.