Dennis Wheatley - The White Witch of the South Seas

Within a few minutes they were out of the town and soon enjoying some of the finest mountain scenery they had ever seen. In the distance there were whole chains of volcanoes, many of them still active, with plumes of smoke drifting up into the sky. A considerable part of the land on either side of the road was well cultivated, with crops of sugar cane, maize and barley. Now and then they passed groups of paw paw, apricot, cherry and apple trees. The villages were well kept and the little people who lived in them, all of whom were of pure Indian stock with no trace of Negro blood, were better dressed and more prosperous looking than those they had seen in Brazil, Peru or Panama. At times they ran through patches of woodland in which they were amused to see every few hundred yards, nailed to a tree trunk, an advertisement for Andrews Liver Salts. This considerable advertising expenditure in sparsely populated districts, innocent of all other advertisements, implied such large sales as could be explained only by the Indians having given up their local distilled liquor because they had found Mr. Andrews' health giving tonic more to their taste, and a drink for all occasions.

They saw evidence on the last ten miles of the road to Chichicastenango that the stamina of the Indians was quite extraordinary. In single file little groups of small brown skinned men and women were making their way to market. On the heads and shoulders of all of them were balanced enormous loads of fruit, vegetables, woven cloth or pottery, some of the men carrying as many as forty or fifty weighty, hand made pots; but they were trudging along quite happily and, as the car passed, invariably turned to grin at the occupants and call friendly greetings.

As they neared their destination, the way became frighteningly twisty and precipitous. The car plunged down into valleys, skidded round hairpin bends and roared up slopes with steeper gradients than any Gregory could recall having previously encountered in a motor vehicle.

Chichicastenango stood on a plateau seven thousand feet above sea level and from its outskirts there were splendid views of the surrounding country. It consisted solely of one storey buildings, mostly constructed of wattle and daub, but the inhabitants numbered many thousands.

After Planter's Punches and a very satisfactory lunch at the pleasant little hotel, they went out to see the famous market in the large central square. The stalls were so numerous that it would have taken hours to inspect them all, and the variety of goods offered showed the strangest contrasts. Jackets, skirts and aprons, beautifully embroidered in the gayest colours, such as the peasants had made for many hundred years, were displayed alongside radio sets; palm leaf hats beside electrical appliances; native musical instruments of a long past age beside up to date arrays of patent medicines, and hand made crockery pots beside aluminium cooking utensils. There were buckets and bags, bead necklaces and raw tobacco, sandals and patent leather shoes, wonderful arrays of tropical fruit and revolting looking lumps of meat, nuts by the million and gaudy sweets, chewing gum, underclothes, formidable knives, fountain pens and scores of other items; while here and there among the stalls tables had been set up at which little parties of Indians were joyfully guzzling hot messes and swigging down draughts of raw red wine.

At one side of the square there stood a fine church, and on the flight of steps that led to it several Indians were swinging bunches of burning leaves. Their driver had accompanied them as guide. Leading them towards the church he said:

`We make visit. Very interesting. Mornings seven o'clock priest he say Mass. Then go home. Rest of day church place for worship of old gods. Men on steps go up very slow. Reach top and families allowed in with them. Inside all burn candles. Pray to ancestors for good crops or bad luck to enemies. With each group you see magic man. He take money to see prayers answered. Inside church you look only at saints, carvings, altar. Not to look at people. They not like, might make trouble for us.'

Greatly intrigued, they followed him into the church by a side entrance. There were no pews and nearly the whole of the stone floor was occupied by many small groups of Indians, most of whom were kneeling. While pretending to admire the architecture of the church, the visitors covertly observed the pagan rites that were in progress. The kneeling Indians had lit hundreds of short candles, among which were scattered rose petals and many small, unidentifiable objects.

From each group a constant mutter went up and, evidencing the strong double faith resulting from the Spaniards having imposed a veneer of Christianity on the natives, many of them were frequently crossing themselves.

As they left the church, Manon said, `Well! I should never have believed it. The higher clergy in Guatemala must know about this, and Mass is celebrated here every morning. How can they possibly permit its being turned over to witch doctors for the remainder of the day?'

`That is their policy,' Gregory replied with a cynical little laugh. `They know jolly well that unless they closed their eyes to the fact that a majority of the people are still fundamentally pagan they wouldn't get them to come to Mass at all. And I suppose they vaguely hope to get a genuine convert now and then.'

`As many people go to Mass as worship old gods,' their guide remarked. `Good thing to “hedge”, as you have expression. Then when dead you win either way. But in real trouble people think old gods best. From here they go up mountain to old sacred stone. Sacrifice chickens, goat, pig. If man's vigour lost he smear blood on private part. They say certain remedy. Better much than burning candles to Virgin. That not logical, I think. But me very modern man. Better I think to spend money at drugstore.'

Gregory grinned at him. `I'm sure you are right. I must bear your tip in mind.'

Manon drew him back a pace and whispered in his ear. `No, darling. You might do yourself harm if you stimulate yourself beyond your normal powers. Please don't. I'm perfectly content with the loving you can give me. As things are you are wonderful and you satisfy me completely.'

Nevertheless, she spent a good part of the night in big Pierre ’s bed. Before she left him the previous night he had made her promise to report to him what success she had had in dissuading Gregory from financing James, and she had felt that she must do that.

Soon after dinner they had all retired and about ten o'clock Gregory had come to her room, but he had spent only an hour making love to her. As they lay embraced, she had again done her utmost on Pierre 's behalf. This time she took the line of endeavouring to convince Gregory that he would be running into really grave danger. Had she known her man better that was the last thing she would have done.

He listened patiently while she talked of the Colons of Algeria: how for years they had had to defend their properties, then engaged in a vicious hit and run war with the Arabs; how they had come to hold life cheap and killed without mercy. She pointed out that he would not be up against only Lacost and his companion; the swarthy Corbin. There could be little doubt that Lacost was the leader of a gang of unscrupulous toughs. They knew the South Seas and Gregory did not, so he would stand no chance against them.

Gregory was far from rash by nature. To the contrary, on a score of occasions only the exercise of great caution had saved him from his enemies. But the decisive factor in this present matter was that he had become bored with life. Manon provided him with a new and delightful interest, but a love affaire was not enough. Another side of his mentality craved exciting situations in which he would have to use his good brain, and this quest for treasure had unexpectedly developed into just that sort of thing. Moreover, if the gamble did cost him his life what of it? He had hopes that death would reunite him with Erika.