Dennis Wheatley - The White Witch of the South Seas

Entering the main building Gregory looked about him with delight. The walls were covered with thousands of bamboo canes of varying thicknesses, lashed together and arranged in geometrical patterns. Mighty beams, rough hewn from tree trunks, supported the roof, the acute interior angle of which could be seen only dimly far above. These beams were covered with tapa cloth a speciality of Fiji, which is made from the white bark of a tree, hammered out until it is thin and supple, then dyed black and brown in patterns. Superimposed on the cloth there were rows of lovely Pacific shells. The great room was dim, cool, spacious and only sparsely furnished with low tables of rare woods and comfortable chairs.

Wiping the perspiration from their faces, Gregory and his smiling hostess subsided into two of the chairs. Silent, barefooted, Joe Joe appeared beside them with long tumblers of pineapple and fresh lime juice laced with rum. Manon had given her servants no notice of her coming, yet she had been

expected and everything was prepared. From previous experience she had known that warning was unnecessary. How such foreknowledge of events is obtained is one of the great mysteries, but it is almost universal among the older people of the islands.

After having a shower, a sleep and a swim from the beach in water that was as warm as a tepid bath, they spent a heavenly evening. Later, in Manon's bure bedroom, Gregory felt as though thirty years had fallen from him. At his wish she remained passive or became temporarily a tigress. Her body was superb and he delighted in having her stand with him so that he could run his hands down the satin of her sides, waist and buttocks, then feel her crisp, dark pubic hair. Her laughter was infectious and by a dozen devices she incited him to further efforts. At last, in the small hours, he said that he must leave her to go down to the beach and flash a torch, as he had arranged for the speed boat to come in and take him off to the cruiser.

`Darling,' she gave a little giggle, `for a man of your age and experience you are the greatest fool in the world. Joe Joe, the other servants and the crew of the launch all realise that we are lovers. I'll bet you a hundred francs to a centime that if you went to the beach and flashed your torch the boat would not come off. The crew will be sound asleep. They and my servants would be utterly ashamed for me if they had reason to believe that you were not in my bed.'

He had wished to protect her reputation, but, willingly, he allowed himself to be persuaded that she was right. Their limbs entwined, they fell happily asleep. And, of course, a few hours later, wrinkle faced, smiling Joe Joe set a tray down beside them that held two breakfasts.

After a swim they went in the speed boat to Malolo, the main island of the group. Again they were expected. An elderly Chief greeted them with smiles and all the marks of respect. His village consisted of a clearing in which there were some twenty bures all large, airy, thatched buildings set well apart. There was not a sign of squalor anywhere but, here and there, hibiscus bushes and rows of small white stones outlining the paths made it very neat. On the fringe of the village there were tall coconut palms, breadfruit trees, mangoes, ugly, several branched pandana palms, the leaves of which are used for thatching, and several very thin stemmed palms with lovely feathery heads, a variety said to be inhabited by good spirits who kept away evil ones. From the forks of the trees orchids were growing, their blossoms hanging down in long strings.

In the middle of the village stood the Meeting House. Under a thatched roof it was open sided except for a surround of low wall of woven bamboo about three feet high. They proceeded there for the welcome ceremony. At one end the Chief and the adult males of the village took their places, squatting with crossed legs on rush mats. Gregory and Manon sat down in similar fashion, facing the Chief. Before him was set a large, shallow wooden bowl on four squat legs, called a tanoa, tied to which there was a long string with shells attached.

To the accompaniment of chanting and rhythmic handclapping the dried and grated roots of the Piper methysticum bush was put in the bowl and mixed with water, to make the ceremonial drink known as Kava or Yaggona. A young warrior dipped a finely polished, coconut half shell into the mixture. Holding the cup with his arms fully extended, he slowly sank down and offered it to the Chief. With hollowed palms, everyone gave three loud claps and the Chief drank from it. The same procedure was followed with Manon and Gregory, while the natives cried, 'Matha! matha!' which means `Empty it,' as the custom is to drink it straight down. They, too, clapped three times when they had swallowed the concoction, which Gregory found to be a milky liquid with a faint flavour resembling rhubarb. The remainder of those assembled then drank in turn to the continuation of handclapping.

The ceremony completed, the Chief led his guests to a bench shaded by a pink flowered cassia tree, and sat down between them. In front of them a dozen or more men formed a double line. Their leader uttered a low note. The others took their key from it and began to sing. They were accompanied by a band which squatted a little to one side. One man had a long, oval, double ended drum upon which he beat incredibly fast with his finger tips, others,, with several different lengths of very thick bamboo, beat upon the ground. The harmony was magnificent. Some of the songs were primitive laments, others paeons of victory.

Later, a score of women performed meke for them, which is best expressed. by `dancing a poem'. Unaided, Gregory could interpret only a few of the movements, but the gently smiling old Chief explained from time to time that his corps de ballet was expressing the surging of the sea, the sowing and the harvest, the growth of great trees and their destruction in a hurricane.

Under the midday sun the sweat streamed down the shoulders of the men and the rounded arms of the women, who were naked to the waist; but they did not appear to mind. Their singing and dancing seemed effortless and, obviously, they were enjoying every moment of it. Never, Gregory thought, had he seen such happy people. When the show was over he shook every one of them by thee hand. Unabashed, the men who had a few words of English cried, `Welcome! Welcome! Come again, yes. Big pleasure see you,' and gave him friendly pats on the shoulder.

At a loss how to express his appreciation to the Chief, Gregory asked him to accept his handkerchief. It was a large square of gaily patterned rough silk, a speciality of Beale and Inman in Bond Street, and had cost two pounds. The old man was delighted and, not to be outdone, insisted on presenting him with a dozen beautiful, highly polished shells.

He accompanied them down to their speed boat and had his men carry them out to it, then smilingly waved them away. Suddenly it had clouded over and on their way back began to rain. By the time they got home they were drenched, but the rain was so warm they laughed about it. They were wearing only the lightest garments, so within ten minutes they had dried themselves and changed, to sit down to a lunch of paw paws, delicious, fresh caught crabs, and mangoes from trees in the garden.

The following morning they swam with glass masked snorkels out to the reef. Twenty feet down, the undersea garden provided a wonderful scene of colourful activity. Between the coral fans flitted shoals of tiny brilliant blue fish, and hundreds of big prawns. Occasionally there came into view bigger fellows, red, rainbow striped, and dead black octopuses with gently waving tentacles, sea slugs and hermit crabs. Later the speed boat swiftly circled the bay, trailing them in turn behind it on a surfboard. Gregory had mastered the art many years before in the South of France, and Manon was an expert.